


Bathing Not Drowning

by derekstilinski



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alive Cole Anderson, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bathing/Washing, Bubble Bath, Cuddling & Snuggling, Endearments, Flirting, Future Fic, Good Parent Hank Anderson, Hank Anderson Deserves Happiness, M/M, Post-Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Self Care, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Texting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2020-10-10 03:20:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 52,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20521085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/derekstilinski/pseuds/derekstilinski
Summary: Hank Anderson-- father of one (and dog), Lieutenant of the Detroit Police Department. Liked, respected, and slowly working himself into the ground. An intervention from his friends, therapist AND teenage son informs him that he should be practicing more self care.He thinks the gym, the cooking and the sleeping is enough. But now he's walking into the mall's luxury bath care shop after a firm recommendation. In steps Connor, an overjoyed employee, who sets him up for the best bath of his life.(The LUSH store AU)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Mo (molias here on ao3, check out their hankcon stuff! 👍) for the wonderful title!!

It took a lot for Hank to get here. Not physically, the mall is less than thirty minutes away from the house, but mentally. Emotionally too, he supposes. After his intervention— where his friends (including his ex-wife), his therapist, and his teenage son gathered around him to explain how much they love and value him. And how much they wanted him to take care of himself, when he really wasn’t. He’d been just going through the motions for a while, getting caught up in work and trying to take care of the others in his life. Especially Cole, making sure he was okay after the divorce.

He forgot himself, and it’s worn on him. And no matter how much of a fuss he made when they confronted him, he had to admit at the end of it that they were right and changes needed to be made. He’s done quite a few things already, but he’s finally not been able to fend off the smaller things Cole wants for him anymore.

Hank still complains to himself inside his head all while he putters around the mall. He walks around and mourns not going into his usual stores. He gets himself a hot pretzel to prolong not going to the destination set for him. But he strays by it while brushing salt crystals and crumbs from his jacket. There’s no music able to be heard blasting from the store like some of the others, and the lights aren’t starkly bright or leaving Hank thinking the place isn’t even open with how dim it is. It looks very nice, unassuming.

Hank walks in and immediately is washed over with all the mingling scents. It's not bad, just overwhelming and not entirely expected. There's so much for him to look at, he doesn't know where to start or even what everything is. But he doesn't want to turn tail and run, he promised Cole he would get something.

Lavender. Vanilla. Lemongrass. Bergamot. Sea salt. Tangerine. He rubs the back of his neck, knowing he looks out of place all awkward. The only other customer leaves the small store after getting rung up at the register, and that puts him slightly at ease. He can look like a bumbling old man in peace.

That is, until the employee comes around the register and smiles at him. "Hello, my name is Connor. Is there anything I can help you find today?"

Hank fumbles with a bottle of body wash, hastily setting it back down, "Uh. I've never been in here before."

Connor has such a kind smile. The warmest brown eyes and soft, freckled skin. He even smells incredible, but that shouldn't surprise him. Connor works here, with all the smells. Maybe getting his help wouldn't be such a bad idea. Hank feels more pressure, he really doesn't want to mess this up now. Connor sounds excited, "That's not a problem, we love new customers. Where did you hear about us? If you don't mind me asking."

"My son. He told me I'm not allowed to come home unless I bring something back." That gets a light chuckle out of Connor.

"For him?"

Hank shakes his head, "For me."

Connor seems to brighten, looking him over like he can sense what Hank could want. Hank sure hopes he knows because he's got no fuckin’ clue himself. "Let me help you today. Um...?"

"Hank."

"Hank." Connor's voice makes his name sound warm. God, he can't think that. This guy's cute, he can't embarrass himself. Connor hums, "Okay, Hank. Tell me what you'd be interested in. Any scents specifically? Are you looking for something from a bath or shower standpoint?"

"I'm really not sure. I have a big bathtub I never use." Hank watches Connor's eyes light up, then follows him around to another display. Connor seems to enjoy his job.

"I suggest a bath bomb, then. It reacts with water to fizz, releasing oils and cleansers. Even color." Connor picks one up for Hank to smell. Too floral. He finds another. It smells spicy in a warm way, he likes that.

"And all those are good things?" Hank asks, nodding to the one in Connor's hands.

"It will condition and soothe your skin. I wonder, is there anything specific you'd need in skincare?" Connor puts the bomb in a little bag.

Hank looks down to the dry skin on his hands, "Maybe."

Connor leads him around the store, being conscious of Hank's questions and concerns. He gives Hank tips on products to use and Hank asks him to write it down, saying he'll need it to show everyone up.

"Cole's sixteen. He told me I've never smelled any different in his entire life," Hank grouses as he explains, "I buy my soap, I know my soap. I get by, I got more important things to think about than _ soap_... No offense."

Connor smiles brightly, "None taken."

Hank shrugs bashfully and rubs the back of his neck. "I guess everyone thinks I need some more, y'know, self care..." He feels embarrassed admitting it. He gives a sigh, trying to sound lighthearted. "Or just that I look shitty, whatever."

"I think," Connor starts, finding his gaze with a soft look, "Even just coming in here to try is a good step. I know it can be difficult to change something familiar suddenly."

It comforts him, the way Connor says it so genuinely. It draws a smile out of him. "Uh, thanks. That's real nice of you."

Connor hums, casually adjusting a few things on the display. "I do think they're being a bit hard on you, though."

Hank groans in relief, finally someone sees that too. "Thank you!"

"You're very attractive to begin with, Hank."

"_Oh_."

Hank knows he's as red as the organic ruby lipstick on display the entire rest of his shopping trip. Connor looks pleased by the fact, eyes always lingering. They find him a few more things for his bath and some moisturizer for after. Connor writes the instructions for him after ringing everything up.

He hands them over to Hank in a neat little stack of recycled paper bags. "I hope it goes well for you, Hank. If you like it, maybe you'll come back in."

"Is that a ploy to get me to spend an ungodly amount of money here?" Hank jokes, chuckling as he takes his bag.

"I'd like you to tell me how it made you feel." Connor says, maybe a little bashful himself.

Hank shuffles his feet, trying to think up a response. "Maybe I will. You never know... Thanks, for helping me out. And y'know, listening to an old man ramble on."

"It was my pleasure, Hank." Connor tells him, sincere.

Hank feels his face heat again as he leaves. The smells of the store and the vibrancy of Connor’s smile linger on him all the way out of the mall. He treats the bag delicately, putting it in the passenger seat for the drive home.

Hank shows off his bag of goods as soon as he’s in, lining each item up on the coffee table while Cole's stretched out on the couch with a video game, "I got this and this, and this pear thing, and this for bubbles, this for my face and— Hey! You listenin'? I can't rub it in if you're not."

Cole snorts, giving him a look. "I'm listening, Pop."

"Good! Now look, I self-care'd! You can even tell Jeff. I did it, I did the stuff." Hank tells him, shaking his new bar of soap.

"You also have to _ use _ the stuff, y'know."

He huffs, starting to put things back. "I was planning on it. Get myself a beer and my book, and have a grand time!"

Cole grins and slowly sets his game down on his stomach, "Does that mean I can order pizza? You're gonna be so busy!"

Hank squints at him, knowing full well that Cole had pizza yesterday for lunch. "I can still cook."

"I wouldn't dream of making you do that!” Cole slaps a hand to his chest dramatically, acting straight from his theatre class. “You work on you, I'll call it in. Self care. Pops, you enjoy."

Hank grunts but fishes his card from his wallet. "You little shit. Get me pizza, too."

"Yes!" Cole kicks his legs in victory, snatching up the card. With everything back in the bag, Hank gets himself off the couch and heads towards the hallway, thinking he'll put off using all this stuff if he doesn’t start now. Cole pipes up just before he reaches the bathroom. "Hey dad? All jokes aside, I'm proud of you. For trying."

And if that doesn't hit him at home. Knowing his son is proud makes all the stress worth it, makes getting himself together worth it.

"Thanks, kid. Always proud of you, too."

Hank makes some time and is true to his word. He gets his beer, his book and his bath bag— then takes over the bathroom.

And he swears he's in a different world.

He never realized his bathtub was this deep, or this luxurious. The water is a deep blue, swirled with teal, purple, magenta. It's a strong but inviting scent, the glitter is a surprise. The mint makes his everything tingle. He breaks up some dessert-looking thing and it makes a ton of bubbles, up past his head. It smells like roses.

His skin has never, in his damn life, been this soft. He has the deliriously happy thought that he feels like a seal. This must be what seals feel like, no wonder they have that look on their faces. He feels a tinge of regret for acting out so badly during his intervention— everyone was right. He should've been doing things like this for himself a long time ago.

Hank spends a long time sipping his beer, reading his book, and rubbing his soft belly under the water. He tries to remember a time he was this self soothed, but he's coming up blank. The water is a little hotter than it needed to be, he knows he's pink all across his body. It's made a wonderful heat to soften the skin on his face, per Connor's instructions.

He knows he'll follow all those instructions, he'll just do them a bit later. When he's ready. He easily abandons his book to stare at the beautiful water, taking it as far as to shift around and admire his body. It's made his skin look great, the glitter and bubbles cling to him and he finds he likes the way he shimmers.

It's like he's been dunked in honey. His movements are slow, his mind is thankfully free of running thoughts. It's like time has slowed and he's floating with less aches in every sense. Are baths this good all the time?

He's submerged his neck without trying to get his hair wet and he’s rubbing at his tender knees when there's a knock at the door, “Pop?”

Cole's voice brings him back center. He blinks while he gains awareness again. “Yeah?”

“You okay? You've been in there almost two hours.”

Holy shit.

Hank didn't think it'd been that long. He slowly sits himself up, feeling heavy in a really nice way. “M’good! Be out soon. Save my ass a seat on the couch.”

“You have an _ ass_igned seat.” Cole snickers, and Hank barks out a laugh deep from his belly, completely from surprise.

Washing up with new things is an experience. Especially like this, with the packaging and nature of the products, it requires him to be present. The smell is all around him, warm and deep, cleansing. It feels good when he rinses it out. And washing his face… he almost doesn't believe he's doing it right. But Connor's instructions wouldn't lie, he follows them to the perfectly printed letter. 

He doesn't scrub hard once and when he gets out, gently mourning the loss of all the nice water down the drain, his skin looks bright. He feels good. But Connor's instructions don't end there. Taking his things into his room, he pats himself ‘mostly dry’ - Connor's words. This is important. He's supposed to apply his moisturizer while he's still warm and damp. So that's what he does

It's also got a nice scent, much softer than anything else so far, and he sits on his bed, in front of his mirror to make sure he doesn't miss anything. He gets a little in his eye but curbs his bitching— radically accepts that for a good bath, lotion eye can get him.

There's a little too much left in his palm so he just rubs the rest down his neck and chest, over his tattoo. Into his hands and the last dregs even into his hair as he combs his fingers through. He feels a little like a full day spent at the beach. Over-warm and water heavy and something like sunscreen on his skin. It's not a bad feeling. It's a feeling he knows will carry him into sleep.

He tugs himself into clothes, old shorts and his robe. Past his room and bathroom, he can now smell the pizza Cole got delivered. His stomach clenches and growls angry at him, drawing him in. He grabs Cole’s ankles and moves his legs so he can sit with him on the couch, settling his son's feet in his lap. He whines dramatically, “Huuungry.”

Cole snorts at him, leaning over to grab a pizza box and give it to Hank, “Eat fooood!”

Hank flips it open and sighs, food still warm. He pulls off a slice and folds it, taking a big bite. The smell of pizza and the products soaking into his skin is an odd but incredibly indulgent combination. Damn. He likes this, does he?

Cole chuckles at him, leaning over the couch to bring back a can of his favorite soda. He hands it over, “Hey, Pop… you know you're covered in glitter, right?”

Hank looks down and - yeah. It looks like his tattoo is made out of glitter pens. He pops his can open thankfully, “Is what it is.”

“You look like a sleepy gay cupid.”

“I'm a voluptuous bisexual cupid, what can I say?”

Cole giggles and curls onto his side, reaching for his game controller again. Hank feels himself sink back into the couch, content and happy.

It takes Hank almost a week to go back into the store. Work and home took up his time, he only managed one more bath last night. Connor looks the same as last time, with the addition of some blue around his eyes and a very sharply ironed shirt of the same color. He looks so nice and put together, smiling at customers and ringing up items. Hank gets in line seeing as he's the last one, waiting as anticipation builds in the pit of his stomach.

Stepping up to the counter, he watches Connor lean to recycle a receipt before looking up at him. His face brightens, recognition sparking, “Hank!”

Connor even remembered his name. It makes Hank feel some kinda way. He rests his hands on the marble counter, feeling an easy smile pull at his lips, “Connor. You wanted me to come back.”

“I did. I…” Connor comes around the edge of the counter, leaning close to Hank. His eyes wander over Hank's face and hair, then his body— the flash of chest hair thanks to undone shirt buttons. “If I can, you look wonderful.”

That feeling grips Hank tighter, making his shoulders shiver. “Ah, thanks to you. You gave me the best bath of my life!”

Connor blushes, his smile getting bigger.

Hank stumbles to correct himself, but he doesn’t have it all together, “I mean! Uh— like, you didn't… god, I realize anything I say…”

Connor's expression doesn't change.

Hank goes red. Why does this happen? He feels himself getting more and more flushed. “…It's just gonna sound dirty. Shit, I should've thought this through.”

“I asked you to come back.” Connor says, gently touching his arm to calm him. He looks inviting but also teasingly pleased, like the last time Hank got flustered around him. “I asked to know how it made you feel.”

As if Hank could forget.

Connor chuckles softly, “That could have been taken… oddly, at best.”

“I think ‘at best’ was a little better than that.” Hank finds himself grinning. He’s here, after all. He lowers his voice a little conspiratorially, “It was amazing, Connor. I didn't think stuff like that could be so enjoyable. I was in there for two hours and barely noticed…”

Connor brightens at that, a look of interest blooming there. He keeps rambling excitedly, enjoying that look, “I like stuff that makes the water soft. And the rosy bubbles were nice. I was like a _ seal _ at the beach, Connor.” 

The amused pinch in Connor's brow gives him pause and he sputters trying to explain himself. Connor visibly looks to be holding back a laugh and Hank is dying from it, no matter how nice Connor looks. But Connor shrugs and pats over his apron, a little bit of fragrant powder escaping up out of his pocket. “Well, I always thought it was like a mermaid.”

Hank snorts, a little dumb with surprise. “Of course you’d think mermaid, you could be one.”

“Only on the weekends." Connor preens, pushing the little flyaway back off his temple only for it to slip back down. The thought blooms in Hank’s mind, if Connor's hair is as soft as his own felt after he washed it with all his new products. Probably even better, really. He realizes he's been staring when Connor gives him that pleased look again. “Did you like everything you bought?”

“Yeah! It was all really nice…” he meets Connor's eyes, earnest. “And I followed all your instructions, and read them over again when I needed them. It was thanks to you.”

For some reason, Connor blushes hard. He bites down a smile and ducks his head, laughing softly. He even stims lightly with his hands mostly hidden at his sides. “Hank, I'm… I'm glad!”

Hank feels so happy to be making this guy smile. It’s such an almost overwhelmed smile, like he’s still learning how it can fit on his face. “There were a few too many bubbles for my style because I kept wanting to look at the water, but it was the best.”

Connor gives him a slightly confused look, “How much of the bubbles did you crumble in?”

“…The whole thing?”

To his surprise, Connor snorts loudly. “Hank! You should've used _ maybe _ half!”

Hank blooms with a little flush of embarrassment and laughs, leaning forward on the counter, “I didn't know!”

“You used a whole bath bomb and crumbled three baths worth of bubbles in. No wonder you were a seal.” Connor turns away, wiping a tear from his eye. “I'm so sorry, I should have written it down for you.”

Hank runs his hands through his hair and smiles brightly, feeling so light. “I had fun. It was a lot of fun. That also means… I need a few more things.”

Connor takes a few deep breaths and smiles, looking increasingly excited at the prospect of giving Hank another new experience. “Really?”

He feels his smile widen, even turn giddy while he nods and follows an almost bouncing Connor to the cozy smelling rows of bath products.

Cole is just biting into a sandwich when his father comes back home. He meets him there in the kitchen, seeing the starry-eyed look on his face. “Have a good day?”

Hank hands him the receipt from the bath store and he hums at the price, trying to figure out what he bought this time. After getting a hand flapped at him, he turns it over.

There's a series of numbers on the other side— ‘Msg me!’

Cole grins up at his father’s bright red face, knowing he’ll be stuck like that a while. “Oh Pops, fuck yeah!”


	2. Chapter 2

Hank stares at the perfectly printed numbers on the back of that lavender smelling receipt again, 313 248 317 51… he's so nervous. Connor had been sweet, voice bright as he spoke about instructions.

Connor had rang him up, a special new bath melt the star among items. Hank picked out a hair styling product all by himself, and Connor had swiped his personal discount, loaded him with little samples. Hank must have been gawking into his bag when Connor wrote down his number.

He sighs, running his fingers through his hair. He should just say hello and not be all awkward about it. He's talked to Connor before. He's flirted with Connor. And now he can't text?

“Are you _ yearning _ like a sad old bi, Pops?” Cole drops down onto the couch next to him and uses Hank’s leg as a pillow. He pulls his homework out of his backpack.

Hank grunts at his son's skull slamming into his thigh, frowning down at him. “Ugh. Maybe, don't gotta call me out.”

“Just text him! He'll get it, that's his serial number.” Cole pokes at his tablet to bring it to life, “You know what that means.”

“What does that mean?” He's about to get gruff if Cole learned something shitty from someone at school.

“It means he doesn't have a phone. Or,” Cole looks up at him, grinning. “He gave you the number to his head because he likes you.”

Hank melts, throwing an arm over his face as his head falls onto the back of the couch. “Shit. Come on!”

“You come on! He obviously likes you!”

“I— I know! I'm just nervous!”

Cole scoffs, taking the phone and receipt from Hank's hand. He presses in Connor's number and starts off the conversation,

> #H: Hey it's Hank, thanks for thinking I'm attractive. I think you're hot, too

“Connor's hot, right?” Cole asks as he tosses it back.

“What? I—yeah, I mean.” Hank glances at his screen and almost has a heart attack, “Cole Ambrose Anderson!”

Cole laughs and rolls off the couch dramatically, over the coffee table. He scatters magazines as he goes and Sumo barks with all the excitement, wanting to join in playing whatever game Cole’s just started.

Cole shouts back as he’s catching his footing, “You gotta believe in yourself!”

“I believe I'm gonna kick your ass!” Hank shouts back, hauling himself up from the couch.

He does indeed kick Cole's ass, but at that point there's no strength in it since they're both wheezing with laughter. He's chased Cole around the kitchen and living room, both of them swatting at each other. Cole brandishes a dish towel and launches an assault. Hank lifts him bodily off his feet and spins him, deposits him upside down on the living room chair.

He drops himself back onto the couch with their laughter still tapering off. Sumo clambers to lay on top of him and he hugs the dog close, “Oof. Big lump.”

When he checks his phone, there is a reply from Connor.

> #C: Hello, Hank! You're very welcome, I do find you attractive. Thank you, Hank. I'm quite glad you feel the same. I'm happy you contacted me!
> 
> #H: Ah, Connor. Shit, I'm sorry. Cole sent that first message. I am really happy to hear from you though
> 
> #C: Oh! I apologize then on the misunderstanding. You don't feel that way?

Hank sweats, hastily replying.

> #H: No! Wait. I just. Didn't want to make you uncomfortable.
> 
> #C: Oh!
> 
> #H: I mean I do!  
#H: Feel that way!
> 
> #C: You're very kind, Hank. I'm very glad your son contacted me. With accurate and… wonderful information.

Hank blows out a deep breath, heart pounding. He can almost smell the store just from associating it with Connor in his mind. He thinks about that teasing amusement Connor can wear, his soft smile, his bright eyes.

> #H: I can see that smug face from here, I swear
> 
> #C: If you could, then I'd see your redness.

Damn if he's not 100% right. He hasn't known Connor long but every interaction and thought of Connor has been good. And it's made better by the fact Cole's supportive. He's encouraging Hank to go after someone romantically, and Hank feels supported and safe in that. Like he’s not committing some parental sin. Knowing Cole's chill with Hank interested in someone that isn't his mom is good, and that they can talk about shit like that.

Brighter and brighter. Shooing Sumo off him, he pulls himself up from the couch and tries to push his luck even more, “Hey kid, you wanna help me cook dinner?”

“Is it pizza?”

“You're a pizza gremlin.” Hank snorts, but smiles as Cole hauls himself up with a dramatic sigh.

> #H: You know some about me. Tell me about you, Connor. How bout it?
> 
> #C: I have so much to say.

Brighter and brighter.

He and Connor text for weeks. Hank can't make it back into the store to see him as an intense murder case picks up. He's spending every free minute from work he has with Cole, making sure he's good. It's not as heavy of a process as it used to be, he doesn't feel as strung out and shitty.

Connor tells him it's the balanced meals and sleeping. Cole says it's Connor and the lavender lotion. Either way, Hank thinks it's a pure damn miracle. His therapist listens to the details while he stuffs his face with chicken salad because he doesn't have the time separately. Cole fills him in with the latest from school and friends. Connor trades stories and sweet conversation. He balances things well. It helps that Connor tells him to go to bed at 11pm on the dot.

Hank finds three hours to himself while Cole's out with friends on a Friday night, and immediately takes the opportunity. He slips himself into a bath with half his bath melt, watching the low fizz. The color and softening oils spread, and he indulges himself with half a bath bomb too. It erupts with intense color and the smell of peach washes over him.

His phone chirps, signaling another message. He's gotten accustomed to the noise more often, enjoys it now because of Connor.

> #C: I do enjoy food, Hank. 900 and I eat pizza, almost exclusively.

Hank chuckles. Of course, pizza. He and Cole would get along so well… that's not a bad idea, actually. Is it weird their first date could be making pizza here at his place?

> #H: God you're a pizza fiend too. So is Cole. Why pizza?

He slides down deeper into the water, letting it coat his shoulders and soothe his aches.

> #C: They have a lot of pizza in Italy. 900 planned the trip for my activation anniversary.
> 
> #H: He took you to Italy for your birthday for pizza with your new stomachs?
> 
> #C: I was never technically born, Hank. But yes. I loved the experience.  
#C: Tell me about your favorite dessert, Hank.

Hank smiles, grabbing one of the little tubs on the table close to the bathtub.

> #H: Oh man… ice cream. Berry cobbler with ice cream on top. Y'know maybe I can't choose.

He sets his phone aside to open the little cardboard tub and scoop out the pastel blue gunk for a mask. He slathers it on with a little difficulty, some drops on his chest but he just rubs it in like everything else. After he rinses and dries his hands again, he sees Connor's text. He reads them twice, the soft scent and calming weight of the mask on his face pleasantly distracting.

> #C: I've never had ice cream or cobbler. I'll have to try them.  
#C: Hank… can I divulge a personal thought?
> 
> #H: Of course you can. You always can.
> 
> #C: Talking with you every day fulfills me greatly and I'm very happy you are here with me.

Hank feels his chest stutter and the blush blooms over his face hot. He has to turn his head away for a second— because god, that's tender. And at his heart, he's a hopelessly tender old man.

"Oh my god. Oh jeez." He feels restless without Connor here to hug, to release the flustered and thankful energy that’s thrumming through his bones.

> #H: Oh Connor  
#H: You don't know how over the moon I am about that
> 
> #C: Tell me how much.
> 
> #H: I wish I could see you. Today. Now. Just to see you
> 
> #C: I wish the same, frequently.

He closes his eyes and lays his head back, wishing this case was over so he could. So he could finally ask Connor to meet up, finally see how he looks in a relaxed environment.

> #C: Hank… can I see you now? In a photo. As an incentive, I will return the gesture.

He can feel his stomach flutter with the anticipation of sharing with each other, of getting to see Connor. He’d have a photo of him to keep, and that means a lot to a guy like Hank. He can be too sentimental for his own good sometimes. He never told Connor that he was in the bath, though… but he's taken worse selfies before, right?

> #C: I look very nice right now, Hank.

Well. He can’t say no to that, can he? He switches to his camera and flips the lens before he snaps a photo of myself, covered in suds and a bright face mask. He sends it off to Connor and adds on his reply,

> #H: I'm sure you look like a dream, Con

Connor replies almost immediately, a rush of four texts that makes Hank laugh.

> #C: Oh Hank!  
#C: You're in the bathtub.  
#C: You're using your mask.  
#C: You look beautiful!

The messages are accompanied then, by a photo. It’s Connor, in the reflection of a mirror with pink cheeks and a soft lopsided smile. He's wearing a chunky sweater with big buttons and it falls almost to his knees. He's not wearing pants; at least not that Hank can see, the sweater’s too big. The photo is taken right from his eyes and Hank doesn't even find it odd. He just looks… incredible.

> #H: Oh Connor…
> 
> #C: Forgive me being so dressed down. I am very comfortable.
> 
> #H: Connor, you look breathtaking. You're wonderful.
> 
> #C: Oh! You think so?
> 
> #H: Hell yes, I do.
> 
> #C: Thank you, Hank! That makes me very happy.
> 
> #H: I like when you're happy, Con.
> 
> #C: You make me happy, Hank.

Hank swears his heart is always hammering in his chest whenever he talks to Connor, because of simple things like that.


	3. Chapter 3

With all the power of all the heavens, there is finally a break in the case. After weeks of his regular hours and admittedly some overtime. It takes Hank two straight days of being at work, sleeping fitfully on the lumpy sofa in the upstairs lounge, missing meals and time to make that break. Being Lieutenant, he sends others to make the arrest because he cannot stand missing more time with his son. He drives home slowly in the hour before dawn, eyes heavy, and drags himself through the door on the fumes of his last pot of coffee. 

Sumo is delighted to see him, demanding he lay all over Hank but can't stay still through the excitement, so he really wiggles in Hank's arms while whining his head off. When he's allowed to get off the floor, he gets himself out of his shoes and coat, stores his gun away in the lock box. He slinks towards the kitchen, but Cole’s bedroom door swings open lazily, his son shuffling out barely awake. The moment he sees Hank his pace picks up dramatically.

"Pop." He beelines down the hall with outstretched arms and lands against Hank heavy with sleep. Hank cradles his son's head and sighs, weary and long.

"Hey, bud. I'm back now, case closed." He squeezes Cole and rocks them, sleeplessness strangling his heart. It's so good to be home he could cry. "You just get up? You want breakfast?"

They both know it's too early and Cole would honestly enjoy face planting back into his pillow, but he nods anyway. "Yeah. Maybe… French toast?"

"You got it." He lands a kiss to Cole's forehead and lets him shuffle off to the bathroom. In the kitchen he puts all the concentration he's got left into making them both a few good stacks of French toast. It's pretty haphazard and looks like shit, but Cole barely opens his eyes when he plate is slid in front of him anyway.

They barely talk to each other more than Cole mumbling a thank you and a few little grunts back and forth, but their presence together is really what's needed. Cole drenches his toast in too much syrup. Hank gets some in his beard when he misses his mouth. Cole seems surprised to learn the drink is his glass is milk because he doesn't even look at it, and Hank forgot to even get himself a drink. They share the glass of milk.

"You gotta be getting back to sleep soon, you got school." Hank says, trying to blink wide to see the clock on the wall.

"It's Saturday." Cole mumbles with a full mouth.

Hank sits with that for a moment, Cole takes the milk from him. "No shit."

His son gives an agreeable hum. They clear their plates, only sticky syrup pooling at the bottom. They don't even clean up the table, Hank just ushers Cole up and steers him towards his room. He hears him flop into bed. He gets to his own bed and just crawls in, too tired for even pajamas. Undoes his belt and pants because he's full, and Sumo clambers up after him. He sends a text to Connor, sleepy and misspelled.

> #H: Case /done, Sleep vow. Miss you, Con

Hank falls asleep with his phone in his hand and Sumo as his blanket.

There's a text from Connor in the morning (afternoon) when he wakes up. Sumo isn't there anymore and he really regrets sleeping in the same clothes, but he slept like a rock and that's what he needed.

> #C: I miss you as well, Hank. I'm proud of you for finishing the case. I'd like for you to rest now.

Hank smiles dumbly and drags himself out of bed. He gets himself into the shower and scrubs up, happily covering himself with a lavender mint lather. Just the scent of it now is comforting, it centers him to be ready for the day. While washing his face he realizes he hasn't really trimmed his beard in a while— or his hair, for that matter. He can recognize that's something nice he can do for himself, that he should do it so he can feel his best. The beard, anyway. He can go to his barber for the rest, or even Cole, who's gotten into taking stabs at artistic endeavors like that. That sounds like a good idea.

As he's getting out of the shower he hears the front door open and close, Sumo's nails clicking as he skids into the kitchen. Cole's voice, bright and happy, "There ya go. Good boy!"

He smiles to himself, leaning over the sink to tame his beard with his little scissors. He's always worried he takes too much off, but he waits so long between trims that it kind of has to be that way. He stops fussing with himself when he hits that stage, knowing he can continue to stare in the mirror or go get himself dressed.

It's Saturday, he remembers, so he slips into sweats and his old Detroit Gears sweatshirt before padding out into the living room. Cole's on the floor leaning against the coffee table, pouring over a digital book while his laptop plays some video into his headphones. Hank knows he's concentrating just fine despite all the input. "Hey, kid. Good walk with Sumo?"

Cole looks up while pushing one headphone off his ear, "He found a new stick. I had to help him get it through the door."

He chuckles and makes his way to the kitchen, finding Sumo there with a fallen tree branch and looking so pleased with his new toy. He rubs his dog's head on his way to make a sandwich, "Damn! 'Stick' is a bit of an understatement."

"He did good!"

Hank sighs happily to himself. After a few slathers of peanut butter and finding the milk among the other food in the fridge, he settles in on the couch to flip on the TV, keeping the sound low. He's more preoccupied with eating and finding Connor's text again, wanting to reply.

> #H: Slept like a rock, weird dreams. Do you dream, Connor? If yes, I hope they're good ones. Like premium grade A

Connor doesn’t reply right away but Hank pays it no mind. He gets wrapped up in finally sitting at home, eating his peanut butter sandwich with Cole swiping page after page as he reads. He finishes his breakfast and watches three segments on the news; the weather for the week, more android quality-of-life upgrades rolling out, and the rise in funding for art programs at local schools.

He turns off the TV after that, not wanting to hear about his case coming up next. He puts on a record and goes to find the book he'd been working through, detouring to crouch on the floor and scratch Sumo's belly, drag his hands through all the thick fur while he coos at his big ol puppy. Sumo basks in the attention like love from Hank is the best thing in the world. He follows Hank back to the couch and lays over his owner’s lap while he reads.

Cole eventually tires of reading himself and saves his spot on the tablet before his headphones come off. He coaxes Hank into a card game, slumping against Sumo as they use his back for a table to keep the cards. Sumo falls asleep there happily.

"Hey, kid." Hank starts, as Cole starts another game, "How would you feel about giving hair cutting another try?"

"I was just gonna ask when you were gonna get it fixed." Cole grins, setting up the discard pile again.

Hank snorts and pets Sumo’s head when it lifts up after the noise. “You can just tell me when I look scruffy.”

Cole laughs softly, laying down a new card. Hank lays one down after him and he groans at the change in color. He had his best card stocked up for next turn. “You look scruffy, Pop. You really want me to do it?”

“If you want, it’d be fun.” Hank tells him, “I like seein’ you be artistic.”

“…And if I wanna dye your hair?”

“I’m not allowed blue hair at the station, but whatever else.”

His son snorts loudly, shaking his head. “You’re supposed to be crotchety and say no!”

“I’d take a hot red! It’s all about you being creative.” He explains. He knows he’s more willing to let Cole do a variety of things. Especially if it’s to do with being creative. He’d let Cole do his own hair and Hank’s hair any way he wanted, he picks out anything he wants for his own clothes. He’s let Cole paint his nails before, his kid’s got a steady hand. They’ve been talking about painting classes.

“You’re more a pastel pink.” Cole makes sure to tell him, laying down another card to give himself two turns, “…I’ll do it, though.”

“Thanks, kid.”

“If—” Cole’s down to his last three cards. “you meet up with Connor sometime.”

Hank sputters, fumbling with the card he’s going to lay down, “Hey!”

“Those are my terms!” Cole points a finger at him, starting to grin. “You talk about him all the time.”

“Well, I mean…” He smiles to himself. He could ask Connor out, there’s nothing stopping him from doing it. He’s been meaning to anyway, not that anyone has to know about that. “I… Yeah, I guess I could. I’ll ask him.”

“Then okay!” Cole pulls a double turn again and wins the game, a triumphant look spreading on his face. “I’ll get the buzzer!”

Cole shoots up from the couch, heading for the bathroom. Hank starts to clean up the cards, petting Sumo for being so good at being still. It hits him belatedly— “The buzzer?”

He hears a heavy click and then the whir of electric clippers. Cole’s going to get very creative, then.

Soon Hank finds himself sitting on a kitchen chair in the bathroom while Cole trims up his split ends and then goes to dive in with the clippers. He only feels a mild sense of hesitation for change, but he keeps his head where his son puts it and scrolls through his phone. “So, do we know what we’re going for?”

“Yeah!” Cole shifts his hair around and Hank blinks it out of his eye. “We’re taking off the whole back.”

Hank makes a confused sound— “What, though?”

“I’m ruining you. Don’t worry about it.” Cole says offhandedly, and then Hank feels the clippers connect and a section of his hair fall away.

“Well, that’s fun.” Hank dips his head when Cole pushes, and continues squinting at his screen. He still hasn’t gotten anything back from Connor. He thinks the android must be busy, maybe with his RK900. Another pizza night, probably. 

He looks to the side where thick pieces of hair are falling onto his shoulder, so solidly gray now. It doesn’t take much longer, Cole takes the time to trim around his ears and stare scrutinizingly at the evenness. Goes around Hank in circles to make sure he’s done everything he needs to. Then he smiles, “Okay, Pop. I think we’re good.”

“No pink?” Hank grins, taking the towel from around his shoulders carefully as he stands up. He steps in front of the mirror and shakes his damp hair with his fingers. It’s still long on top, looks the same more or less, just better. But it’s shorter in the back, tamed around the ears. It feels incredibly soft when he runs his hand over it and Cole holds a mirror up so he can see.

“I don’t have any pink.” Cole chuckles, brushing off his father’s shoulder, “Yet.”

Hank shakes his head with a good natured grimace, smoothing his hair back. He likes the way it looks, and he feels lighter. He reaches for a cloth to clean up any stray hairs on his neck and face. “Hey, thanks for this, kid. It really helps me out, and you did one hell of a job.”

Cole shrugs, dusting off the clippers before grabbing the chair, “It’s cool, I like doing it. I’m glad you like it.”

“I’m proud of you!” Hank calls while Cole shuffles down the hallway. He grabs the broom behind the bathroom door to start sweeping up all the hair.

“You, too!” Cole calls back, as always.

The three of them go out later for groceries and essentials, Sumo’s tail wagging excitedly even as he stays on the job. Once his little vest is on, he knows it’s work time. Hank and Cole both throw some of their favorites into the cart, Hank makes sure he gets extra veggies when Cole loads up on pizza supplies again. They talk about dinners for the week, and Cole has the confidence to say he’ll be eating alone at least once because he’ll be seeing Connor. Though Hank’s cop senses kick in with some of Cole’s other food picks.

“Didn’t think you liked soy beans.” He says casually as Cole drops in a bag of frozen edamame in the cart. Cole shrugs, looking for his favorite ice pops now. “I could swear. Who liked…? Wasn’t it— ah, it was Milo, wasn’t it? That kid you always hang out with… Are you—?”

“No thanks.” Cole insists, face going red. He keeps his back to Hank for a bit, looking harder than he should into the frozens’ section, “Pops, really— uh, he’s… No cop vision.”

Hank softens at that. He was only teasing, but he’ll respect that. When Cole’s ready, he’ll talk about it. They walk for a bit in silence, Hank gets a slice of meat at the deli for Sumo. He bumps Cole’s hip while they’re both having a piece of cheese, “You wanna get more hair dye? Touch up your ends for when you see him?”

Cole gives him a little thankful smile and nods.

He checks out a display close by while Cole deliberates on the exact shade of dye he wants. They’re stuffed animals, and while Sumo sits there perfectly still, Hank can tell he’s looking at the plush ladybug at height level. Cole’s been out of stuffed animals for a while, but it makes him start to wonder - not for the first time - about androids. What they hold onto when they don’t have a childhood, unless they’re a child model. He thinks about what they’d like as gifts. He thinks about if Connor was here, would he want one? There’s a dalmatian plush he’s eyeing, he knows Connor adores dogs.

Still no text from Connor. But Hank’s thinking of him, and after a bit of that thinking, he picks the stuffed animal out of the display and puts it in the cart. He peers at Sumo from the corner of his eye as he reaches out for the ladybug too, cooing when Sumo lets out a small huff of excitement, “Steady.”

Sumo stays put so well. He offers the toy over after giving it a safety glance, and Sumo slowly opens his mouth so he can carry it. “That’s my good boy. Let’s go get Cole.”

At the mention of Cole, Sumo starts leading the way back to him expertly. Hank follows, he always lets Sumo do his job. Cole’s debating between two colors that are pretty much the same, and Hank picks the brighter one when asked for an opinion, knowing his son will sit thinking about it too long otherwise. They head to the checkout after and Sumo knows where they parked, walking a few feet ahead while his humans trail close behind with all the bags.

He and Cole make pizza for dinner; pepperoni, onions, peppers, and topped with greens and spice. Cole talks about the pottery thing they’re doing in art class at school, how the clay is messy but in a good way, that it calms him to mold it. He remembers the one-line drawings they did that drove Cole’s motor skills nuts, so he’s happy they’ve got something that works out. 

Hank talks about the new coffee shop he heard was opening soon in the long empty building they always walk past when they go to the park with Sumo. He beats Cole to a joke about a cop knowing the nearest coffee shop and Cole doubles down with asking if there’s artisan donuts. Hank has to tell him there will be, which sends his son into a fit of laughter that he knows that tidbit of knowledge too.

Cole goes to play video games with his friends after dinner and Hank talks on the phone with Jeffrey for a while, the two of them catching up on home life stuff and gushing about the most recent Gears game. Jeff's got a new little cactus that he's trying so hard to keep alive. Hank knows he's really putting his heart into it when his best friend talks about how he meticulously measures the water out and uses a whole six step method for watering and sunlight. He asks about Hank's self care and how it's going, Hank talks about his haircut and beard oil and his plan to ask Connor out.

"Damn, Hank. Didn't think you had it in you." Jeff chuckles into the receiver, and Hank feels the flush rising to his face.

"I haven't even done it yet, hold on… God, I haven't been on a date in years. I don't even know if Connor would want to go to a restaurant, y'know?" He sinks a little more into the couch cushions, rubbing his fingers over the buzzed back of his hair.

"He can eat, right?" Jeff asks, sounding unsure. "I talked to a woman at the farmer's market getting four watermelons— like, like she tucked them under her arms like it was nothing. I joked how she must like them, and she said she didn't have a stomach."

Hank snorts softly at the awe in Jeffrey's voice over the strength of this random woman. "Nah, Connor got his for his birthday. His friend took him to Italy just so they could eat pizza. All he eats is pizza, Jeff."

"Sounds like your son." Jeff laughs, and Hank joins in too.

"They'd make a great damn pair, huh? I'd be talked into pizza every fuckin’ night with those two!"

Another round of laughter, and then Jeff sounds like he's still smiling when he asks, "Is Connor someone you'd introduce to Cole?"

Hank feels his heart lurch. It takes him a minute to make words and not just open and close his mouth. "I… I don't know. I talk about them to each other sometimes, mostly about Cole to Connor. You know me, I can't shut up about how cool my fuckin' kid is." he says, looking down at where he's picking at a thread on his sweats.

"I know, Hank." Jeff answers, softer. Coaxing, but patient. He knows Hank isn’t done.

"I mean— Yeah. I'd like to. But not yet. Not until I know more, you know? I'm not the type to just bring people around my kid. Cole's been… positive, about the whole thing. He wants me to get out there." He smiles to himself, "I think he sees being in Connor's orbit makes me happy."

"We've all seen you, Hank. You really jumped the damn hurdle on taking care of yourself. We see it. I'm proud of you." Jeff tells him, making Hank choke back a little heaviness in his throat. "I'm impressed, too. You went through the divorce and moving house, you bring up Cole—"

"Ah hell, Jeff. Come on." He says bashfully, he doesn't need the list his best friend's trying to give.

"No, you let me finish— You do your job and you care about it, you got the dog, you're taking care of you now along with all the mandated stuff. And on top of it, you got all the game in the world to pick up a guy _ by accident_!"

Hank barks out a laugh, covering his face while he really sinks into the cushions now. "Goddammit."

"It's true!" Jeffrey's working through his own laugh, "Old saying, but your _ glow up_, Hank! You've really outdone yourself."

Hank feels so much warmth for his best friend. He doesn't think he can say how much it means to have Jeff _ say it_, even if they both have touched on it before. He swallows back a fond lump in his throat and tries to be funny instead, "Just thought to myself, y’know, wellness… 'I think I'm just gonna bust in, no ticket required’."

Jeffrey wheezes with laughter, Hank knows when he takes the phone away from his ear because it almost turns 3D with him waving it around. "Fuckin'—! How old is that damn joke?! Hank!"

Jeff's laugh makes him laugh, and the rest of their conversation is them trying to outdo each other on how well the other person is doing. It goes into stories and plans to get together sometime. When Hank hangs up with a stay safe and I love you, he gets the same in return. He feels happy, content. Sumo comes in from his doggy door and ambles on up to Hank, sensing his good mood. Hank pets his cool coat and then treats him to a few biscuits with a good brushing.

He checks in on Cole, listening to him congratulate his teammates and get excited when he lands hits. He tells him only a few more games and then to wind down for the night. Cole gives a thumbs up over his shoulder, "Okay. We've won twice, you know!"

"Great job. Goodnight, kid. Love you." Hank leaves his door cracked again after gently turning down the ceiling light.

"Night, Pops! Love you, too!" Cole calls back through the furious mouse clicking. "—What? Yeah, I love my dad. Yeah— the team loves you too!"

Hank snorts, "Love them. So proud!" He goes into his room and shucks off his sweats before crawling into bed. He gets comfortable against all his pillows and sighs, feeling his body melt - and crack profusely while doing so - right into the mattress.

Before he goes to sleep, he sends off another text to Connor.

> #H: Didn't do too much resting today but it worked out. Missed you today, you must be busy too. My turn to tell you to rest. Wanna ask you about something soon, when you’re free. Let me know


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning while Cole sleeps in, Hank does up the laundry so he’ll have more options when his friend comes over. He makes sure Cole’s favorite outfit is in there. He indulges and makes a bunch of bacon with his scrambled eggs and blend of broccoli and potatoes. A nice Sunday breakfast before he has to go back to work, even if he’s almost always on call anyway. He sits down on the couch with Sumo and they share breakfast, Sumo’s bowl even brought up and Hank giving him little bits of bacon.

“We’re gonna go on a walk soon.” he coos, Sumo looking up at him with those big puppy eyes. He sing-songs as he scrapes up more egg, “Walkie time, we’re gonna exercise, because we’re under orders to do it.”

Sumo boofs quietly and licks soft kibble off his mouth. When they’re ready, Hank pulls on his sweats from yesterday and his running shoes, gets Sumo on his leash. They walk around the neighborhood and the street near the park. Hank lets them in so Sumo can get a drink from the doggy fountain and sniff his favorite tree.

Cole isn’t awake yet by the time they get back so Hank does his twelve sit-ups and covers up the food so it’s there for Cole later. He takes his meds, switches over the laundry, and changes his sheets. He sits on his bed to retrieve his phone from the charger, seeing a text from Ben needing an approval for evidence lockup. He sends his confirmation code over with approval. There’s also a text from Connor, which gets his heart pumping.

> #C: Hank, I apologize for not speaking yesterday. I have contracted a virus and my communications were down.

Hank feels some worry spring up. He doesn’t know too much about android issues, he wonders about the severity of Connor getting a virus. There’s an android wing now in the hospital, Connor could go there. Does he have a car? Is the RK900 with him?

> #H: How bad is a virus? Are you okay? If there’s something you need, you gotta make sure you get it. Do you have reliable transportation?
> 
> #C: I’m okay, Hank. A virus is… I would equate it to the human flu? That's what the technician told 900. I’m only mildly miserable, I promise. The anti-viral program and wellness patch were given to me today, I’m going to run them soon. Don’t worry, I’m going to be fine.
> 
> #H: What happens during that patching stuff?
> 
> #C: I will have to rest, like any human would. Minor glitches will still happen while I’m being repaired, but I will feel much better when it’s done.

Hank sighs, feeling the nervous energy drain out of him. Then it’s not anything terrible, Connor’s just a little under the weather. That’s not the worst, it sounds like he’ll be back on his feet soon enough.

> #C: I don’t feel well at all. I keep getting uncomfortable glitches and my motor servos don’t like cooperating. I’m sorry if you’ve ever been sick, Hank.
> 
> #H: I’ve been sick plenty of times, it’s never fun. Do you need anything?
> 
> #C: I wouldn’t know, I’ve never been sick before. I would like never to be again.

His heart aches. He remembers the first time he got the flu, six years old and thinking it was the end of the world. His head fuzzy, all sweaty, his body shaking. He remembers crying about it and just making the headache worse. Connor sounds miserable just like him.

> #H: I know I don’t know too much about android needs, but what if I dropped off some stuff for you? A long shot, but it might help.
> 
> #C: Hank… that’s so kind. No one has done that for me before. I would like that, if you’re not busy. And if you don’t mind seeing me in such a state.
> 
> #H: I wouldn’t mind seeing you in any state, Con
> 
> #C: I don’t know… I look a bit odd during repairs… with my wires hanging out of my chest...

Hank snorts. He loves that Connor's text jokes come with so many pauses, like he's leaving Hank room to anticipate how funny it'll be at the end.

> #H: That’s the weirdest joke I’ve ever heard. Gimme a half hour, I’ll be there.

He tosses his phone aside to grab some clothes to wear, then goes to gently knock on Cole’s open door. Cole’s just waking up, scrolling through something on his phone. “Mornin’, kid. You uh, you remember when you told me to see Connor?”

Cole nods groggily, voice a little croaky from sleep, “Yeah?”

“Well,” he says, a little sheepish, “he’s sick right now, and I’m gonna bring him some stuff to help him feel better.”

“Aw, man.” Cole smiles, shaking his head. Seeing his dad look so nervous over something like this, he feels he's gotta give a little push, "Are you gonna go dressed like that?"

Hank sputters, glancing down at himself, "No. No, I'm gonna shower. I just…"

"Want me to be okay with it? You'll be helping clean up his snot. It's not, like, an ideal first date but. Eh, you're weird." He shrugs, unlocking his phone again.

"Cole…" Hank's shoulders relax. He knows he doesn't need the approval, but it sure means a hell of a lot more that he has it.

"Father." Cole looks over the top of his phone at him, "Go. Go clean up his snot for him."

“Right! Go. I’m going.” He heads towards the bathroom, “Right, okay. Wait— does Connor even have snot?”

He lets his shower be quick because he really wants to get to Connor, and the idea pops up that he should go to the store beforehand. He scrubs his body, suds up, leaves himself a little red. He knows there’s new products for androids coming out all the time, there’s gotta be something for Connor. He gets himself into the clothes he set out, and grabs his duffle bag from the closet. He packs in a blanket from the spares in the closet, the plush dalmatian he got for Connor the other day. He crosses back into the bathroom to add a few things from his bath stash; some lotion, a bath bomb and the last half of his crumbled bubble bar. These things have comforted him, maybe they can comfort Connor too. He doesn't know if it'll help much, but he raids the sick kit; vaporub, tissues, cough drops.

While he’s there, he stops at the mirror. He has that little tub of hair product he hasn’t actually used yet. But with this new haircut, it makes him want to. He has to read the instructions again and warms the product in his hands, then rakes it through his hair, scrunching to help his damp curls hold better. The product smells like sweet almonds and it’s so nice. He makes sure his shirt isn’t wrinkled and picks up the duffle, heading into the living room to get his shoes on.

Cole is in the kitchen now, piling breakfast onto a plate with a cold slice of pizza from last night. Hank smiles, “I did your laundry. It’s in the dryer and still warm. Be good, alright?”

“No, I’m a terror.” Cole’s mouth is full of bacon already, bringing his plate and the almost empty half gallon of milk into the living room. He stops at the couch and swallows his food, “Thanks for the clothes.”

Hank grins and gets his coat on, making sure he has his wallet and phone. Keys and duffle bag in hand, he comes over to lay a kiss to the top of Cole’s head and rub Sumo’s ears before he heads out, “Love you! Be back later.”

Cole’s response is muffled but Hank hears it all the same.

He heads to the nearest store he’s sure has android essentials and looks through the aisles almost timidly, weaving around a couple talking about strawberry Thirium. He squints at the little print on the array of choices, realizing that most of it is the same thing only flavored, but there are higher grade options for more medicinal consumption. He grabs one of those, one original with a nozzle opening, and a peach flavored variant that looks like a stylized juice box. On his way to the checkout, he sees some gummies near the candy and grabs a few packs of those, too.

The cashier smiles at him as she rings everything up, “What model are you?”

Hank doesn’t know why he blushes. “Oh, I’m not— it’s not for me.” he fumbles to get his card out, “My friend has a virus. I thought, y’know, maybe this stuff would help?”

She appraises the items anew now, turning one over to look at it, “If their supply is low, it could help them very much.”

Hank swipes his card and puts in his pin, feeling some worry he didn’t know he had start easing away. “Thank you.”

She gives him a soft smile and they both wish each other a nice day. Back in his car he shoves the bag in the duffle and rechecks Connor’s address before he heads out again. Six minutes later than he promised he’d be there, he finds Connor’s apartment in the rows of identical light gray doors on the ninth floor. He knocks and waits for an anxious half minute before the door is swinging open, and a very broad Connor stands in the doorway.

The blue eyes and bigger frame throw him off, and the authoritative voice even more, “Hank Anderson.”

“Yes!” Hank says, when he snaps out of it. This big Connor just looks at him. “Is— Does Connor live here? Connor, uh, 313—”

“Yes, Connor is here. Come in.” the bigger Connor says, stepping aside so Hank can get through the door.

Hank takes a moment to look over the apartment. It's immaculately cleaned, well decorated with stylish furniture, plants, photo frames. There's a bright fish tank. The only thing out of place is a… well, a kind of raggedy looking couch. It's plaid and lumpy and doesn't mesh with any of the other pristine furniture. The glass coffee table, plush rug and wall mounted TV complete the out of place look for it.

There are a lot of photos on the walls. Hank squints at one; Connor and Mr. Big Connor at a dimly lit restaurant, a large pizza sitting between them on the table, Connor's hands holding big Connor's arm as he looks excitedly at the camera. There's smatterings of confetti on the tablecloth. The realization kicks in, "You're 900, Connor's 900."

"Yes, I am." There's a hint of pride in 900's voice as he says it. "Well done, Lieutenant Anderson."

"He talks about you all the time. He really loves you."

900 shifts, stoic face cracking softly with a fond look. "So he tells me, incessantly. He made me deviate."

"Shit, really?" Hank can't keep the awe and surprise from his voice.

"He saw me standing still in my packaging when he was going to leave the facility, and he couldn't leave me there." 900 says, head tilting softly, "I woke up deviant. The first thing I ever saw was his smile."

Hank thinks that would be a very good way to wake up. But he doesn't have the chance to say so when there's a shuffle from the hallway, a little static laced voice that says, "900? Is that Hank at the door?"

Connor doesn't appear too sick at first glance. He should've known that much, really. His face isn't pale, his eyes aren't sunken in. He's got that healthy flush he always does. But his eyes carry a painful squint and the way he holds his body is so familiar; leant forward like his stomach hurts, shoulders curled in like his body aches, arms wrapped around himself protectively. Hank goes to him immediately, giving a soft smile as his heart hammers, "Hey, Con. How are you feeling?"

Connor gives him a weak smile even as his eyes light up, "Still sick. You've changed your hair."

Hank blushes, starting to grin, "Yeah, I—"

"It's so curly." Connor breathes, reaching up to touch him. His hands seem unnaturally hot and he sways lightly.

900 comes closer, holding Connor at one side, "800, you should not stay upright for an extended amount of time."

“You’re beautiful, Hank.” Connor tells him, in such a soft voice. He leans into 900 as he’s led back to his room, Hank trailing behind all smitten.

“Take a rest, Connor.” He watches 900 put Connor back in bed, fluffing up his pillows covered by colorful cases. His blanket his lacking somewhat, a thin and almost hospital-reminiscent thing. He unzips his duffle and digs out the quilt he brought along, holding it out. “I brought this from home, I thought it might help.”

900 turns to look at the blanket with a kind of flat, curious expression. Then he takes it in hand and unfolds it elegantly, laying it over Connor instead of the other blanket. Connor smiles, taking the edge of it in his hands and pulling it up to his chin.

“This is so nice. Thank you.” Connor gives him a smile as 900 coaxes the blanket back down around his waist to make sure he doesn’t overheat. He eyes the bag on Hank’s shoulder, “Did you… You have more?”

“Yeah!” Hank springs into action, dipping into the bag and wrestling with the reusable bag the store gave him. He picks out each Thirium pack one at a time, “Yeah, I got this. And this one, it’s medicinal— at least that’s what it says. And this thing, it’s peach. And-And these, I don’t know what they’re supposed to be, but…”

He offers them over in both hands. Connor takes each item, 900 snags one of the gummy packs to examine it. Connor looks entirely in awe. His hands shake - another glitch, and his voice is pitched with more static, “You did this for me?”

900 reaches to smooth Connor’s hair, sensing his emotion. Hank nods, patting Connor’s knee over the blanket, “Yeah, ‘course I did. I want you to feel better.” he reaches back into the bag, fingers curling around the dog plush, “And I got, uh…”

Connor gasps when it’s revealed, hands opening for it immediately. Hank watches him gently touch the covering of synthetic fur and hold it close. He sighs, eyes welling with tears, “Y-You know I love dogs.”

“I do. I saw it and thought of you.” Hank coos, squeezing gently at Connor’s knee. He knows Connor gets love and care from 900, but it seems like Connor doesn’t get this kind of ‘thinking about you’ gifts. 900 shows his love in other ways, and it’s made clear by the way 900 brushes away a tear just before it falls and Connor’s hand goes to his, skin melting away to touch with bare chassis. Hank’s barely ever seen it before. He knows it’s significant.

“You know I can’t.” 900 tells him when his skin doesn’t come away to connect, much much softer than he spoke to Hank.

“I know, I just can’t help it.” Connor whispers, wiping at his tears when he lets go. He turns to Hank, looking sheepish as he hugs the plush to his face, “This is so kind, Hank. I don’t know what to say. My heart feels better. I’m just very vulnerable at the moment.”

Hank chuckles fondly, “You be vulnerable all you want, it’s alright. I’m just glad I could help, Con. Is there anything else you need?”

“He’d like you to stay with him.” 900 says, standing up straight again, “Please take off your shoes. We have food suitable for you if you need it.”

Hank feels himself flush with color, brows shooting up, “Oh! Hey, yeah, I can…”

“Only if you want to, Hank.” Connor adds softly, starting to curl onto his side with a painful pinch to his brows. He makes a soft, hurt noise and Hank wouldn’t even think of leaving.

900 moves towards the door, his steps silent. “I will get the pain blocker, stay here.”

Hank drops the duffle bag at the side of the bed before he’s shucking off his coat and shoes at the same time. Connor looks miserable, he’s making small movements like it hurts to stay still. “What can I do, honey?”

Connor frowns and reaches out for him without a second thought. He comes around to sit in the space Connor’s curved body makes and Connor’s back is overly warm when he starts to rub circles. The sigh the contact produces lulls Hank somewhat, that’s something androids and humans have in common then. Touch is healing.

“It’s like you have a fever.” He comments softly, not wanting to be too loud. He wonders if it’ll be easier or harder to break an android fever.

“It’s heat in my systems, my internal components are under stress.” Connor sighs, resting his hand on Hank’s leg, “Please… will you come closer?”

Hank’s timid, but he lets Connor direct him to lean up against the headboard. He feels something soft and fragile in his chest when Connor hesitantly settles against his side. His arms draw Connor in close, letting him know he's welcome, and Connor almost collapses.

"There we go." He coos, rubbing along the width of his shoulders, guiding a Thirum pouch towards Connor's hands. "I got you."

Connor tucks the plush under his chin to help keep his head up, voice breaking, "Thank you."

900 glides back into the room, wearing gloves with a small circular device in his hand. He doesn't give much pause at the rearrangement, only comes around the bed to sit nearest to Connor, pulling at the back of his shirt. "I'm here, I've got it."

900's hand taps Hank's, enlisting his help in holding the fabric up out of the way. His fingers skim Connor's skin for a moment, pressing down like he's looking for something. He pauses at Connor's lower back near his hip. He angles the underside of his wrist to touch Connor's skin, and it melts back predictably. 900 settles the device there with a small click and Connor's skin moves back into place as if nothing happened. Hank gently settles his hand against Connor's upper back, feeling him shiver as if Hank's cold. Maybe he is, in comparison. 900 runs his knuckles along Connor's spine, pointedly not taking the gloves off so Connor doesn't try for a connection.

"It won't take away all of the pain, but it will help." 900 says, guiding Connor's shirt back down. "Rest now. I will be a room away."

Connor nods, shakily unscrewing his Thirium to take a sip. 900 gets up, giving Hank a scrutinizing look as he goes to the door. Hank understands - Connor may know him well, but 900 doesn’t. Before he leaves, Connor looks up at him, "I love you, 900."

900 freezes for only a fraction of a second, then his shoulders drop a little tension. "And I, you."

Hank resumes rubbing slow circles on Connor's back when 900 leaves, smiling softly to himself, "I think I like him. Even if he doesn't like me."

"He doesn't dislike you, Hank. He's like that with everyone."

"Not with you."

"No. Not with me." Connor smiles, curling so his leg brushes Hank’s, "He's my best friend. My favorite connection."

Hank squeezes him softly, giving a little chuckle. “I can understand that… I think? Connection like, uh…?”

“Yes. Like in my head.” Connor tells him, fingers stuttering softly at Hank’s side.

He reaches over to recap the Thirium and slowly guides Connor’s arm around him, “It sounds real special, Con.”

“You’re special, too." He whispers, burying his face into Hank's side. There's a pause, where Hank can't find the words to reply, but evidently Connor hears it anyway. "Your heart is so fast, Hank."

"Don't worry about it. It's fine." Hank hums, feeling how Connor is relaxing against him. The pain blocker must be working.

"Can I still listen to it?" He lets his eyes slip closed, feeling safe and cooled down next to Hank. "I like the sound."

Hank feels his chest ache, his stomach get all warm. He rubs along Connor's shoulders and lets out a deep breath, "You go ahead, I don't mind."

Connor gently holds the fabric of Hank's shirt over his belly, and lets himself relax until he's in a light stasis. Hank gently takes his phone from his pocket and texts Cole that he might be a while, he'll have to fend for himself for a bit. Cole just texts back a bunch of okay hands and a double heart.

He reads on his phone while Connor rests, giving light, warm touches when he starts to fuss. Connor has a few glitches while he sleeps, the muscles in his back twitch and tense, making him wince. Hank rubs them soothingly to try and coax it away. Another is a fluid leak, he cries softly into Hank's shirt, and Hank runs his fingers through his hair to keep him calm. 900 looms in the doorway to check on them, eating the pack of gummies he took while giving Hank a cold stare.

Hank gives an uncomfortable smile, "He's doing the glitches. Is that alright?"

900 looks at him for a long moment, then to Connor. "He'll be fine. He's a very advanced model, one of the best."

His smile slips into something more fond, "Is he?"

900 looks almost offended. "Yes. Did you not look through his specifications?"

"No?" He glances back to Connor, who's subtly pushed his nose against his love handles. "Was I supposed to?"

900's brows creep upwards and he tilts his head. "Lieutenant Hank C. Anderson. Age 60. Employed at the Detroit Police Department. Commended for work during the Red Ice outbreak, and advocating for androids during the Revolution. Reasoning given—"

"An android saved my son's life. Yeah, okay, I get it. You looked me up." Hank waves a hand, he knows his own life.

"I had to make sure Connor would not be in any apparent danger when he took to favoring you." 900 tells him, and Hank… understands that. He checks the parents of new friends Cole makes, among other things. Connor makes a soft whimpering noise in his sleep and 900 looks almost pained for a moment, stepping into the room.

Hank watches him thread his fingers through Connor's hair. "You really love him."

900 doesn't speak for a while, but when his voices comes it's only a soft, "Yes."

"I won't hurt him." Hank whispers, feeling like any volume more would shatter the bubble they're in.

"You won't." 900 says, both like he believes Hank and like Hank had better not.

He just gives 900 a nod.


	5. Chapter 5

Connor stirs about an hour later, breath immediately hitching. Hank looks down at him, where Connor's twitched down the bed enough to have his head pillowed on Hank's leg. He moves the curls off Connor's forehead, "Hey, what's goin' on?"

"My… my skin hurts. My body hurts." Connor's slurred voice croaks with sleep. He's getting more tense by the second, not knowing what else to do.

Hank puts his phone away and sits up slightly, "Is it sharp pains? Aches? Dull throbbing?"

"Aches." Connor whispers, almost confused. Hank tries rubbing at the back of his neck and he flinches, making a pitiful noise, "Everything's… so much."

Hank makes his touch lighter, as much as he can. "900 said the patch is around a third of the way done. He checked it a little bit ago. You're doin' good, Con."

"Thank you." He sighs, the ache so deep in his chassis every movement he makes. "Hank, the bed hurts."

"You wanna get up? 900 made up the couch." Hank shifts him gently, laying him completely on the bed so he can get up.

"I don't know if it'll hurt, too."

Hank looks him over, feeling so sorry for him. He reaches to gently touch Connor's shoulder. "Well… I don't know if you're up for it. But I brought some stuff… I could make you a bath? They help with my aches and pains."

Connor's soft brown eyes gaze at him, a little glassy with sickness. "You, you brought things for a bath?"

He feels his face heat with mild embarrassment, wringing his hands as he tries to explain. "Well— y'know, I didn't really know how to help. I grabbed all the stuff I thought could do something."

"Hank," Connor whispers, gently touching his knee. "You are so kind. I would enjoy a bath, so much."

Hank looks at him for such a long, fond moment. Then he gives Connor his best smile and cups his cheek, "Okay. Then let's make you one, huh?"

Connor sits up slowly and Hank helps him out of bed. He grabs the duffle and they take the steps slowly towards the bathroom, with Connor leaning against him. The bathroom is neat; white tiled floors and cream walls, not so much as a toothbrush out of place, and an almost display-like show of fluffy white towels. Connor has products from work on shelves, on the sink counter. He chuckles softly as he helps Connor sit on the closed toilet seat.

"Smells like that lemongrass soap you showed me." He says, gently pulling back the deep blue shower curtain to reveal the tub. It's about as big as Hank's and he leans over to switch on the water.

"I get to try everything the store puts out." Connor smiles, trying to rest against the counter while he watches Hank.

"Feels familiar." He brings the duffle up onto the counter and Connor pillows his head on the end of it as he takes things out. "Reminds me of you."

"I like that a lot, Hank." Connor whispers, letting his eyes close for a moment. He hears Hank’s pleased hum and looks over to watch him break up the soft bubble bar under the faucet. It blooms a warm, rosy scent and Hank rubs his hands together to feel the smoothness the oils give. He carefully takes out the bath bomb next and lays it into the water, watching for a moment as it foams and sputters. He rakes his fingers through the water to encourage more bubbles.

He wipes his hands on his jeans, looking pleased with himself. He hovers near, offering his hands to Connor to help him up. “Here we go, Con. It’s all ready for you.”

Connor smiles softly at the tub and reaches for Hank, “I’m wondering if… maybe I’m asking too much.”

“What do you mean?” Hank coos, rubbing Connor’s forearm. Connor fiddles hesitantly with the hem of his shirt, looking towards the tub and back again.

“Would you join me, Hank?” He looks so honest and open, genuinely just wanting Hank there. “In the bathtub. It’d be nice to lean on you again… and they’re your things, you should be able to enjoy them.”

Hank pauses. Past his own hesitation and anxious worry, he wants to do it. He likes the intimacy they have together, the care they’ve grown between them. It’s something he wants, to be close to Connor physically, and Connor asking just makes him feel more secure. He gives a bashful smile, feeling his cheeks flush up hot. “Yeah, honey. I’ll be your big pillow.”

Connor’s eyes widen with concern, “That’s not why—”

“Shh. I’m just being funny.” He cups Connor’s cheek, leaning down to give a kiss to his overwarm forehead. Connor sighs and relaxes into it, any tension brought forward melting away.

Connor uses the counter and Hank’s arm to help him stand, then takes the hem of his shirt to pull it over his head. “I like you. I want to be close to you.”

Hank’s heart flutters, a smile jumping to his face without the ability to control it. He looks at the freckled expanse of Connor's back and feels an almost giddy sense of being wanted. "Connor…"

"You're a good man. I like listening to you talk. You're very handsome and I enjoy that. I'm proud that you're doing your best." Connor tells him, continuing to explain even if Hank said he was joking.

Hank hides his face in the t-shirt he's just taken off. God, Connor's relentless in this. It's even more when it's said to him instead of reading it through a message. Connor's hands find his arms, guiding his hands away. He's taken off the rest of his clothing - just the sweats he'd had on, and brushes some hair behind Hank's ear. "Don't hide your redness. I like that, too."

He sputters softly in the face of that amused smirk rising to Connor's lips. Connor takes the shirt from him, leaving it on the counter. His eyes track over Hank's tattoo and his fingers skim it distractedly. His shoulder starts to glitch again, muscles spasming and Hank lays a hand over the area as he guides Connor towards the tub. "You're too good to me, Connor."

"It seems like kind of the opposite at the moment. Who came over to whose apartment, to give them a bunch of things and then stayed to take care of them?" Connor turns to him, staying close while Hank undoes his jeans and slips the rest of his clothes off. Connor has him go first, settling into the hot water with a heavy sigh. He hasn't had a bath with anyone in a long time, he tries to find the best position to sit in.

Their differences are a little stark. Hank and his abundance of groomed gray hair along his body, curled and now properly conditioned. Connor with fine hair at his chest and below the absence of a bellybutton, all dark against pale skin. Connor stares down at him in the tub, over his soft belly, between his legs and the definition in his thighs. His eyes snap to Hank's face with a pretty flush and he gently steps into the tub, lowering himself between Hank's legs. The water is silky and the heat bites pleasantly at his aching chassis. Hank coaxes him slowly back against him, a soft warbling sound leaving his mouth.

“Hurt?” Hank asks, not wanting to touch too much until he’s comfortable.

He sighs, feeling a little dizzy. He slips onto his side against the swell of Hank’s belly, twisting a little bit so he can lay against Hank almost like he did in bed. Gently pillowing his head on Hank’s chest, his arm slips around Hank’s back. “This feels good.”

Hank’s heart is a little fast, the surge of trust and comfort just fluttering around in his chest. “There ya go.” He uses his hand to scoop up colorful water, drawing it up Connor’s back. Connor arches, pressing his face into the softness of Hank’s chest.

“_That _ feels good.” He whispers on the end of a sigh. Hank does it again, and again.

Voice a little bashful, Hank runs his fingers up and down Connor’s spine, rubbing in the soft perfumed water. The bubbles escape from between his fingers. “I’m glad I can help, honey.”

Connor hums, “I like when you call me that.” Hank watches him tilt his head up, and it’s easy to lean down and give his forehead a kiss. His eyes cross to see it happen, pulling a chuckle out of Hank. He blinks slowly, returns the smile. “Will you do that for more of me?”

His heart hammers. Connor lays his head back down and he continues to filter water up along Connor’s back. “I might.”

He likes the soft noise Connor makes in response. They both slowly relax more and more as the water softens them up. He checks Connor’s forehead for his temperature a few times and Connor preens into his hands, letting Hank get his hair wet. Connor rubs gently at his chest, then at his side when he gets a little more bold. He traces a little surgery scar near Hank’s bellybutton and a few stretch marks by his hip, mumbling about how wonderfully human Hank is.

Hank leans over to snag a washcloth off the fancy bath ottoman, dipping it into the water to squeeze it out over Connor’s shoulders and neck. “What was that?”

Connor blows a little raspberry, all but melted into Hank’s body. He thinks the fever is coming down. “You’re just… so nice.”

He gives a small chuckle, picking a hunk of blue soap up from the dish at the side of the tub to foam against the cloth. “I try?”

“You must. You have a great shape.” Connor says, admiring him so openly. He softly rubs at the hair on Hank’s thigh, gasping softly in delight at the resulting twitch.

“I—?” He smiles even as his brow pinches. Connor says stuff like this in the sweetest tone, or blankets it with exclamation points and emojis. Hank never knows what to do with it, but he’s learning to put them all in a special place. Connor enjoys his ‘soft aura’. Connor says his voice ‘buzzes nicely in his receptors’. Connor likes the sound of his heartbeat, really likes his ‘redness’, Hank’s company ‘fulfills him greatly’. He thinks Hank is beautiful. And now Connor likes his ‘great shape’. It’s all given to him so genuinely, it makes Hank feel confused and giddy and… well, loved. He presses the cloth to Connor’s shoulder blade and kisses his hair, “You’re somethin’ else, Connor. Thank you for being so sweet.”

“Mm.” Connor smiles, rubbing circles into Hank’s knee. He closes his eyes and gently shifts as Hank starts sudsing him up with the cloth. He endures it for maybe a minute before tilting his head back, speaking into Hank’s chin, “Hank, it’s too rough. Will you use your hands?”

Without thinking twice, Hank removes the washcloth and starts coating his hands, “Is it another glitch?”

Connor nods softly, letting out a little ‘oh’ when Hank’s hands slide down his back. “My pain feedback is high.” Hank presses another kiss to his forehead and he smiles, closing his eyes. “Oh, I’m healed. I can feel it.”

Hank snorts and rests his head against Connor’s, “Cheeky little shit.”

A soft laugh bubbles from Connor’s throat, warm between them. He massages the soap into Connor’s skin with soft circles, feeling the little shift of muscle as Connor moves. He runs his palms over Connor’s arms just to feel the definition there, liking the pleased sound he gets for his curiosity. He holds Connor’s arms and slides down a little deeper in the tub, the water sloshing around them. Connor just hums and repositions himself with Hank, turning slightly to lay his head on Hank’s shoulder. 

Hank gives him a soft smile, gently running his hand up along Connor’s ribs. “This okay?”

“Yes, so much.” Connor nuzzles against his neck, drawing water up Hank’s chest and belly like Hank had done for his back, “Is this okay for you?”

Hank rests his head back, stomach fluttering. “Yeah, it’s good.”

Connor hums, feeling along his skin in a curious, appreciative way. It’s hard not to feel a bit exposed, naked with Connor and being touched and admittedly, lightly prodded at. But it’s not at all uncomfortable, he hasn’t tried to hide from Connor and Connor hasn’t tried to hide from him. If anything it’s the opposite, as Connor gently guides his hand to his chest, drops of water rolling off his fingertips onto Hank’s wrist.

“Why does your touch help me like this?” Connor asks, soft, fingers skimming along Hank’s forearm. Hank’s hand splays wide on his chest, over the little ring of his regulator pump. It hums against his skin instead of a thumping beat like he thought, though he supposes Connor’s actual heart does that bit. If he’s lucky, maybe he’ll get to find out.

“Like what, Con?” He rubs slow, minute circles and feels the heavy rise and fall made as Connor sighs.

“It’s good feedback.” Connor tells him, like even he is surprised by it. Hank raises a brow, letting his hand smooth up and down instead of the circles. He feels the android’s smile against his collarbone. He presses his thumb down around the center of Connor’s chest, above his regulator, rubbing to ease away any tightness there. Connor makes a noise that sounds like relief, sagging against him. “Hank, if you wouldn’t mind… not stopping that for a while…”

Hank chuckles, shifting to draw along his collarbones, “I gotcha.”

He uses both hands when he’s sure Connor can handle the pressure, slicking his hands up from the soap bar to coax away all that pain and tension held in Connor’s chassis. He goes quiet while Hank works, only making the occasional sound of approval or relief, making Hank feel like he’s really doing something special. Hank moves all along his back, over his chest, down to the surprising softness of his flat belly. It makes him snort, his knees reflexively twitching, “My stomach’s in there, Hank.”

Hank makes a small sound of realization, especially when the rest of Connor is a bit dense under the skin. He gives the hollow of Hank’s throat a soft kiss. Hank pays special attention to the muscles in his back, shoulders and chest - and knows to go gently around his abdomen now. Hank hesitantly touches his hip and he smiles, “Anywhere is fine. Your hands feel good.”

“Connor.” Hank whispers, bashful. “That sounds like more than just what you’re sayin’.”

Though, Hank’s hands don’t stop. He just rubs the tip of his nose back and forth over Hank’s neck. “No, I mean it.” Hank’s heartbeat increases in speed and he huffs out a soft laugh. He adds, belatedly, “I’m sorry I don’t have any genitals attached, you’re the odd one out with yours.”

Hank sputters wildly for a moment and he likes the way it moves Hank’s chest. “Connor— Fuck’s sake, I’m-I’m— I don’t _ mind_. You’re— That’s not—”

He shifts softly, bringing both hands up to cup Hank’s face. He settles a kiss just short of Hank’s mouth, giving a little chuckle. “I’m being funny.”

A big sigh rushes from Hank’s lips and his arms circle Connor’s waist. “You’re killin’ me.”

“I’d say you’re very much alive right now.” He smiles, wider when Hank’s hands slip down his back towards his ass.

“You’re feeling better.” Hank tells him with a playful bite to his tone. Connor laughs and settles his arms around Hank’s shoulders to relax. He gives Connor’s ass a light squeeze in both of his big hands and blushes through Connor’s next delighted laugh. “Alright, alright. You want your hair and face washed up?”

“Mm.” Connor doesn’t move for a long moment, like he doesn’t want to leave this closeness. But then slides his knees up under Hank’s spread thighs and sits up. Hank’s face is so soft and open, it’s delightful. He covers his hands with more soap and admires the glitter in the water clinging to Connor’s body. When his hands cup the sides of Connor’s neck, softly rubbing at the tendons and dips behind his ears, Connor sort of crumbles in the absolute best way. “Oh, _ Hank_…”

“Yeah, Con?” he teases, not able to hide his smile. Connor’s hands brace against his thighs and he marvels at the give of them for a distracting moment.

Connor blinks slow and shakes his head, lips parted and eyes soft. He looks so sweet, and so tired. “I like you, Hank.”

He cups those soft cheeks and gently rubs the product over his face, coaxing his eyes shut, “I like you too. How are you feeling?”

“Better.” Connor sighs, leaning into all of Hank’s touches. It makes it a bit difficult for Hank to get his whole face but it’s endearing nonetheless. “My stomach hurts, I’m hungry and can’t shut it off. And my limbs feel… slow. But that may just be from you.”

Hank takes his hands away so Connor can rinse his face. He thinks for a moment, then dries his hands to lean for his jeans. “How ‘bout we get you something hot to eat?” Connor makes an inquisitive noise, eyelashes dark and clinging together now that they’re wet, intensifying the dark brown gaze he settles Hank's way. Hank pulls his phone from his pocket and opens up his favorited delivery app, “Yeah, tell me what you want. We’ll get it.”

He gives Hank a thankful, tenderhearted smile as he rubs one of his tired eyes, “Hank…”

“Come on.” Hank eases, fingers curling around Connor’s hip, “Tell me what you wanna have.”

The decision is thought over for a long moment, paired with a gaze so admiring Hank turns a healthy shade of red. Connor’s eyes flick away and then widen slightly, a brightness to them. “Berry cobbler. With ice cream.”

Hank feels his heart clench happily, pulling up desserts on his phone, “Oh, honey…”

“I still haven’t had it.” is Connor’s soft reply. Hank adds a hearty slice of the cobbler from the local diner, as well as a scoop of churn style vanilla ice cream on the side. He puts in a pizza order too while he’s at it, to be nice to 900. Maybe he can win him over that way. The order confirms, saying the driver will be around in less than twenty minutes. Tossing his phone back onto his jeans, he reaches for Connor, who is fiddling with adding more hot water into the tub.

“All done. It’ll be here soon.” he says, sitting up more to bring the android back to him. Connor melts, back curving comfortably against him.

“Thank you.” Connor whispers, tilting his head towards Hank’s. He gets a kiss to his hairline for the effort.

“Want you taken care of.” Hank mumbles into his temple, giving him a soft squeeze before pulling back to wash his hair. There’s a small pitcher on the ottoman that he uses to soak Connor’s hair and then chooses a shampoo at random from one of Connor’s many.

The slow massage against his scalp has him shivering, wiggling around at the tingles it sends down throughout his body. It's different than when he does it himself. It’s more of a stimulating experience than a relaxing one, but he likes it all the same. “I-I feel taken care of. I feel a lot of things…” he rests his hands heavily on Hank’s thighs, twitching, “Oh— that’s…! Hank, there’s so much there.”

"You okay, honey?" Hank rumbles, watching Connor's neck as he drops his head back for him.

"The sensor network on my head is lighting up like fireworks." Connor breathes, excitement jittering under his skin. He feels like he's floating but at the same time he's anchored by the nice overstimulation of Hank's hands.

"Is that… good?" Hank asks, leaning forward to press along Connor's back again, to draw his hands down his neck. One smooths down his chest and the other uses a feather light fingertip to trace around Connor's adams apple. It bobs under his touch and Connor's mouth opens on a hitched sigh.

"It's amazing. It's new. I like it." He lets Hank dutifully rinse his hair, the glide of his fingers as the water rolls over his head is an experience Connor hopes will save uncorrupted so he can always go back to it.

“I’m glad I could help.” Hank whispers, something deep and amused in the current of his words. Connor leans back into them, letting Hank pet his hair as he settles back against his body and braces his feet at the end of the tub.

Hank’s hands smoothing down his shoulders make him shiver, it’s like he’s coaxing the virus from his body with touch. He lets all his weight rest on Hank again, humming in encouragement of the light kisses Hank lands to his neck, “Mmh. More, more of those.”

A soft huff of laughter brushes against his wet skin. Hank tucks against his neck, giving little whiskery kisses as his hands trail down Connor’s arms. He massages his biceps and listens to Connor’s low breaths. Their hands slot together and he tests brushing the tip of his tongue over Connor’s skin with his next few kisses. He smiles at the shiver that rises up, but then he feels something shift against his palm. He tilts his head to look and sees the skin melting back on Connor’s hand, all bare white chassis. Some kind of feeling hits him in his gut, making him almost completely snap out of his daze.

“Connor?” he murmurs, turning their hands over. He thumbs the softly pulsing blue glow along the planes of Connor’s palm. “Is this…? Well, you did this with 900. This is important, right?”

Connor makes a thoughtful noise, fingers twitching as Hank touches him. “Ah… I do. It um, it is. I can’t connect with you, but it…”

“It feels good?” Hank tries, a growing sense of affection and excitement thrumming through him. “You said you couldn’t help it, earlier today.”

He nods, head shifting against Hank’s shoulder. He flexes his fingers between Hank’s, holding on tighter. “I reach out to 900 all the time, for his comfort, his companionship. For his love.” he wiggles lightly in the water, “I’m… I’m relaxed enough to ask the same of you. I’m sorry.”

Hank shakes his head, pressing a lingering kiss behind Connor’s ear. “Don’t be sorry if it’s something you want.”

Connor makes a soft, almost hurt noise and squeezes his hand. “I do, Hank.”

He curls his arms around Connor and takes that bare hand in both of his own. He caresses those sleek fingers and gently massages into his palm, seeing that glow pulse brighter. Connor gasps and he gives a reassuring squeeze, speaking into his ear, “I got you, Connor. Don’t you worry one bit.”

Connor brings Hank’s hands to his chest, and Hank holds on with his heart thudding hard in his chest. He holds Connor there with him for several silent minutes, Connor's hands laid over his like he's basking in the presence Hank gives. He thinks Connor might be following along to his heartbeat again. The only other sounds in the room are their breathing, and the light sound of the water with any movement they make.

Hank almost thinks Connor is nodding off when his voice chimes, quiet and soothed. "I do dream."

He feels his brows draw together, but it's a mild thing, "Do you?"

Connor catches on to his confusion easily, realizing he's just spoken out of the blue, "You asked me, once. When I couldn't reply. You said you hoped that I had good dreams. I do."

Ah. That jogs Hank's memory better. He finds a smile on his lips. "Well, I—"

"I dream about you."

Hank feels his heart stutter, his face heat. He didn't expect that. He's had a few dreams with Connor in them, in one role or another, all sweet and knowledgeable. Connor's fingertips gently go to his wrist, pressing to his pulse point to let Hank know that he _ knows. _

"Lately." he adds, as if that lessens how romantic the sentiment is. There's another moment of quiet, but then Connor sounds amused. "You're red, Hank."

Hank lets out a low laugh, skimming Connor's knuckles with his thumb, "You didn't even look at me."

"I didn't have to… though I do like to frequently." Connor's voice turns even more playful, "Hank, that's very red."

"_Yeah_." Hank huffs, thoroughly flustered. He's not used to someone looking at him like this anymore. And Connor's not even actually looking! He ducks his head and hides his face in Connor's neck, "You do this to me way too much."

"I enjoy it too much to stop." Connor slips one hand out of their mutual hold and reaches up to run his fingers through Hank's hair. Hank groans and presses a kiss to a freckle near his jaw. Even though he can feel an ache settling back into his chassis, he turns in Hank's arms until they're face to face. The lovestruck look Hank gives him is so much more powerful than he thought it would be.

"Connor…" he whispers, cupping one of his cheeks. The water has pruned his hands but his touch is still soft. He wants, in so many ways. Connor's eyes are lidded, he looks tired still but he's focused on Hank. He looks so beautiful, in a way Hank could come home to.

His phone, still laying face up on his jeans, dings and lights up with a notification. The delivery is here, and on its way up. He steadies himself with a deep breath but the words still fall shaky, "Time to get out."

Connor's smile is so easy, his eyes crinkle at the corners and he exudes warmth. He doesn't speak, just carefully gets himself up with Hank's help and steps out. He gets a towel from the neatly folded stack and Hank follows him, wanting to dry himself off and get back into his clothes before he leaves the room. There's vague sounds of a conversation at the front door.

He's drying off his chest when Connor's hand wraps around his wrist, creating a pause where Hank meets his eyes. Connor doesn't hesitate, doesn't linger. He leans up and presses his mouth to Hank's with such ease it's like he's done it a hundred times. Connor won't tell him he has, in daydream preconstructions, about as many times.

Hank's mind blurs everything but where they touch, Connor's long fingers around his wrist and Connor's soft mouth barely moving over his. He leans into it, down so Connor doesn't have to strain the mere inches, and parts his lips to taste the inside of his mouth. Connor must think he wasn't going to be treated to that, because he inhales deep and arches into it.

He reads every point of contact with Hank; the strong joint of his wrist, the press of his mouth, the slow swipe of his tongue. He enjoys every bit, even the brush of Hank's fringe near his closed eye and the tip of his nose against his cheek. He's the one to pull away, excess examination fluid flooding his mouth in response to the samples of Hanks saliva and the texture of his tongue. Another glitch, exciting and embarrassing but easy to remedy. He gives Hank a bright smile and rubs a circle around his pulse, gently brushing Hank’s beard with his chin. "I didn't want to wait anymore. I'd been waiting."

Hank is such a beautiful shade of red. He licks his slick lips and smiles just as big back to Connor, tongue poking between the gap in his teeth. "That's understandable, I suppose."

"Good." Connor's voice has that smug quality to it and Hank ducks to pick up his clothes.

With his towel around his waist, he can sort everything out and then get dressed, but Connor is guiding him towards the door. "Connor? I'm not dressed."

"I know, your great shape isn't hidden by all those fabrics." He says, opening the door. He hasn't even covered up, just still has the towel around his shoulders.

"Oh, you little…" Hank shakes his head, quickly checking that the hall is clear before he lets Connor usher him out of the bathroom. It's not far to the bedroom but he thinks he'll die if 900 sees him.

Connor must read the apprehension in his body. "You don't have to be covered up, Hank. Androids are different about modesty. At least, 900 and I don't mind."

"Clearly. You're…" he can't help looking down at the way Connor's butt moves while he walks.

"Mm. 900 walks around without his skin sometimes. It's my favorite, I can _ see _ him." Connor shuts his bedroom door once they're inside. He sits on the end of his bed and puts his towel over his head like a hood.

Hank drops his clothes down next to him and lays his hands on the towel with an amusingly big put-upon sigh, "Well, if it's like that… I guess a few more minutes of my 'great shape' can happen while I dry off that mop."

Connor's hands find his belly blindly and Hank laughs, starting to dry Connor's hair without agitating his waves. He seems to like it, Hank feels him lean into it and has a sense that he's smiling. He rubs softly at the hair on Hank’s belly, like it soothes him to feel. “Hank? Would it be too much to ask… for you to stay for dinner?”

Hank smiles, leaning down as he takes the towel back enough to kiss Connor’s forehead. “Kinda hard to say no to dinner when it’s already here.”

Connor looks up at him, a little tinged with worry. “I like that. But, what about Cole? Don’t you have to get back to him? I don’t want to take you from him, Hank.”

“Connor, I’m honestly half sure he’s on a date right now.” He smooths the wrinkles on Connor’s forehead, placing the towel around his shoulders again as he moves over to get himself dressed.

“He is?” Connor looks up with bright eyes even if his face is taking on that sickly tension again. Hank feels a bit bashful now that they’re out of the water, but he takes off his own towel and sits to dry his legs. Connor inches back up to the pillows, laying back to shamelessly watch him.

“Think so. There’s this one kid he hangs around all the time. They go out to the mall together, the movies, Cole always goes to his track tournaments. They’re at each other’s houses all the damn time.” He glances over as he pats down his thighs, Connor looking back at him with such interest for his words and appreciation for his body— spread out on his bed with soft specks of glitter adorning every inch of him, just like all his freckles. He realizes belatedly that he’s staring. “He gets this… look.”

The smile Connor gives him is indulgent, that small lopsided one. He tilts his head toward one shoulder and hums, “I see. He must get it from you.”

He doesn’t understand at first but then his face floods with warmth. He’s been staring with a fond, swept up expression thinking about how beautifully alive Connor is, how he makes Hank feel dipped in honey. He turns away and huffs, grabbing for his shirt, “Connor. Come on…”

Connor laughs, a little hiccup while his nose scrunches up. “I like it, Hank. You’re so beautiful.”

Hank chuckles bashfully, getting up to put on his boxers. He wonders if he left a sock in the bathroom. “You’re the only one to call me beautiful since I was a baby.”

“That’s not fair.” He slowly sits himself up, feeling a dizzying little glitch in his left eye. He tries blinking it away and reaches out for Hank as he gets up. Hank’s hands circle his forearms to steady him and he leans into that warmth, “You should’ve been told again and again.”

He ducks his head into Connor’s hand when it comes to rest on his cheek, fingertips fidgeting like he can read the exact temperature of his blush. “You should be told, too.”

Connor smiles at him lazily, tucking some hair behind his ear, “Then tell me.”

“You look beautiful, Connor.” He leans close, brushing their foreheads. Connor’s eyes flutter. He brings his fingers along Connor’s collarbone and slowly up the tendon in his neck. “You gotta get dressed, food’s waitin’.”

“Oh.” Connor’s brows heighten like he’s remembering he has to put on clothes. He smiles and pats Hank’s chest, “It’ll will make you comfortable, I’ll do it for you. Would you like a sweater?”

He gives an amused hum, turning while Connor walks so he has a few extra seconds to hold him, “You’re a bit smaller than me, if you didn’t notice. I don’t think your clothes will fit… even if I like the thought.”

Connor dips into his closet, picking one of the woven cardigans from the hanger. He holds it out for his companion to slip into, and Hank catches the size on the tag. It’s a size larger than he wears. He slides his arms into it in a sort of specific romantic haze he’s never fully experienced before. Connor leans up as his arms wrap around Hank’s middle, settling a kiss to the back of his neck, “These are a luxury I take. I like being wrapped up, warm.”

Hank feels himself shiver despite all the warmth, looking down to watch Connor fasten one, then two of the porcelain buttons. When his hands slip away and his body leaves, Hank turns to see him pull a pair of shorts from the closet shelf. “Connor…”

“Yes, Hank?” He wobbles slightly when he lifts one leg to get into his shorts and Hank steadies him with hands on his back. He gets himself covered without much fuss and looks up in time for Hank to catch his mouth in a slow kiss. The surprise of it is sweet and he finds the sturdy, soft handholds of Hank’s sides to keep him close. He feels it deep in his bones, the slow drag of Hank’s softened lips and the wet slide of their tongues. The way Hank holds him, cradling his cheek and the back of his neck like he wants to hold Connor closer than he is.

Hank pulls away like he doesn’t want to go, and steps sideways to take another sweater off the hanger. He wraps Connor in it and smooths back his hair, that one curl dropping back into place. He moves to get his jeans back on and Connor gently touches his waistband of his boxer-briefs like he’s lamenting the loss of Hank showing skin.

Connor pulls the blanket from the bed and they both head out towards the living room. 900 is inspecting the delivery with a confused pinch to his brow, but straightens and smooths when they walk in. "A man brought this to the door. He said 'sweet turtleneck'."

Hank holds back a snort and Connor walks until the bulk of 900 stops him, spreading his arms with the quilt outstretched, wrapping 900 up with him. He tucks his head against his double's collar, "It is a very sweet turtleneck."

"How can a turtleneck be sweet, 800?" 900 asks as Hank picks up the boxes of Connor's food and brings them over to the kitchen counter.

"When a sweet android wears it." Connor replies happily.

Connor's relentless open love to 900 is so bright it's almost blinding. It's nice to see he can be that blunt with everyone, Hank thinks. 900 seems to stall for a moment, then he hums. "You wore my clothes recently?"

While finding utensils in the bag, Hank glances up to see Connor's confused frown. "Hm? 900, I…"

900's head tilts, and Hank realizes he must be _ smiling_. Because Connor's eyes light up and he smiles so wide, bouncing in place on the balls of his feet, "I like your joke!"

Something in Hank's heart gives little tug. He doesn't know if he's meant to see softness like that, but he's finding it somewhat easy to navigate here in their home. He opens up the container with Connor's cobbler inside and appreciates the steam that rolls off it, the golden crust and deep blue filling. While the androids delve into conversation, he assembles Connor's dessert, gently sliding in the scoop of ice cream from its separate container - thankfully barely melted by the drive. He sticks the spork into the top of it and rounds the counter to deliver it, adding to the coaxing of getting Connor onto that old couch.

Connor sighs as he hits the pillows, immediately sitting back up with a little grimace. "There needs to be room for all of us."

"He can sit on the floor. Humans love floors." 900 coos, trying to cover him up with an extra blanket.

"His knees, 900!" Connor sighs, pushing pillows to the floor to make room for Hank.

900 nods placatingly, "He has them, yes."

"Grew 'em myself and everything." Hank adds along just because he can, settling into the spot made for him. 900 comes around the coffee table to push the pillows onto Hank, to cushion Connor still. Hank is just simply there.

"Impressive." 900 says without much interest. Connor leans against Hank and all the pillows, shaking his head with a happily long suffering smile.

Hank grins back and settles the food into Connor's hands. The little gasp Connor gives as he feels the warmth through the container is adorable. "My stomach hurts just looking at it."

"Is that good?" He asks, seeking out that flat belly with his palm. There's a little 'oof' when he makes contact— the heat of his hand like the food container, drawing noises out of Connor.

"I want to eat the whole thing at once, Hank. It smells so good." He says. 900 settles at the other end of the couch and draws his legs into his lap. He tilts his dessert to show him, "It's fruits and sugars."

"It looks like Thirium composite." 900 offers, which must be an approval because Connor seems to enjoy it.

Connor's first bite is him completely diving in head first, a full mouth and long thoughtful hum. Hank watches him hold it in his mouth maybe a few moments longer than a human would before swallowing. "You okay, Con?"

With a few stuttering blinks, Connor nods with some reverent look in his eyes, "This is delicious, there's so many contrasts. Tart and sweet, crisp and yielding, hot and cold. It makes me happy."

"Connor has advanced analytic processing in his mouth. He knows the values of the food down to their base now." 900 informs, hands on Connor’s calf and ankle.

Hank starts to smile, then almost chokes on his own spit. Connor has special stuff inside of his mouth? So, when he kisses Hank… has he logged everything about Hank’s mouth? He clears his throat, brows high. “Is that so?”

Connor looks at him with full cheeks and syrup on his mouth. He sees Hank’s pointed glance at his mouth and flushes a soft pink. He gives a little nod and Hank swipes his thumb over the corner of Connor’s mouth, wiping away the berry syrup. Connor’s eyes lock to his mouth as he sucks his thumb clean.

“Mm.” Connor swallows and shovels in another bite distractedly, so happy to have something reaching his stomach and the man he’s been thinking about for so long finally next to him. Even if the bad feeling of sickness is looming over him, he’s so happy. Even more, with the sensory information coming in as Hank rubs his sore belly and 900 rubs his aching ankles. “I am so lucky, and very happy.”

The hums and soft murmurs of approval given back to him only makes it better.

Hank slips his phone from his pocket to check in on Cole. The reply back takes a few minutes, but Cole assures that he’s fine - watching movies, took Sumo for his walk, picked up some ice cream. He says ‘we picked up ice cream’ and Hank thinks he’s not talking about Sumo. It makes a soft chuckle bubble up.

Connor reclines his head a little to see him better, “Is that Cole? How is he?”

“Oh, I think he’s livin’ it up while I’m gone.” He smooths Connor’s sweater and slips his fingers between two buttons to touch his skin. “Movies, dog walking, ice cream…”

“He lives an exciting life.” Connor remarks sweetly, scooping up a bite of cobbler to give Hank. It’s bashful, but Hank opens his mouth for it. “Is he with the friend you mentioned?”

“I think so.” Hank mumbles around the cobbler, giving a little nod. He looks content in their home, reclined back against the couch wearing Connor’s clothes, touching him like he’s familiar. He smiles at Hank, halfway through devouring his dessert, feeling warm in his bones.

900 peers over the container to see Connor’s progress, then shifts and gestures towards the pizza box, “Is he to eat this too, Lieutenant? You realize he does have a limited capacity in his stomach.”

Even though Hank didn’t know that, but it seems like common sense reasoning, he flushes anyway. Maybe he _ should _ look up Connor specs. He shakes his head, “Not unless he wants to. I got it for you… you like pizza, and new types of ‘em. Connor said so.”

“I do.” 900 says carefully, looking back towards the pizza box with a renewed sense of curiosity, maybe even some apprehension. He flips open the box and leans over to look, “This… is for me?”

“It’s bacon, sausage, peppers, onions… Garlic crust, sauce is marinara mixed with bbq, marinated spinach there on top. I get it with Cole, my son, all the time.” He explains, a little worried the longer 900 stares at it. “We argued back and forth for half an hour to get that combo, so it’ll be a new experience, right?”

900 looks at Connor for a moment, some kind of silent conversation where Connor chuckles and waves his hand at the pizza. Then 900 tilts his head, sliding the box closer, “Yes, it will be. Thank you, Lieutenant. I’m still not accustomed to gifts.”

Hank smiles and lets himself relax, “No problem, I just hope you like it. And call me Hank, if you want.”

900 picks up a slice of pizza, glancing back at him a few times. “…Hank.” He takes a slow bite of pizza and holds the food in his mouth like Connor had, but without the furious blinking. He seems to like it, the little uplift at the corner of his mouth is telling. 

He glances to Hank again, then grabs the pizza box to rip off the lid. He breaks off three slices and uses the lid as a plate, holding it out. “Take this. You need to eat as well.”

Hank says a small thank you and gives Connor a delighted, triumphant look. A step towards 900’s good side. Connor smiles brightly at him and ducks his head, laying against his shoulder.

Hank stays for a few more hours. He and 900 get Connor back into bed when he starts complaining of aches and queasiness. He opens Connor’s sweater and smooths vaporub over his chest when he says something about his respiratory system feeling tight. 900 checks him after to actually help while tucking him in. Hank walks back in from washing his hands to see 900 swipe some of the ointment from Connor’s chest and then put his fingers in his mouth. 

It’s a worrying moment for Hank to see someone eat chemicals, and evidently a worrying moment for 900 as well because, “This will have no effect on him, Hank.”

“I guessed as much, but… I thought it would be at least soothing.” He runs his hands through his hair to shake away the last of his surprise.

“It does smell intriguing.” Connor hums, tugging the quilt closer against his body.

900 gives a small hum of assent, petting Connor’s hair back before he stands. “Intriguing taste as well.”

Hank makes an almost distressed noise and he swears the little huff of breath as 900 passes him is a _ laugh_. Connor guides him into bed by strong, insistent hands. “Hank, will you stay? Until I fall asleep?”

He feels warmth curl in his stomach, he’s already settling down into the mattress. “I _ do _ have to go home sometime… but a little while longer won’t hurt.”

Connor hugs Hank close with a soft hum, liking the way Hank melts against him. He lowers his voice to a whisper, “Thank you. I realize I might be… slightly needy.”

“I haven’t been held in years, Con.” Hank closes his eyes, silently reveling in having arms around him, the line of Connor’s body against his own. It makes him a little tender, honestly, he wants to tuck into it and stay. “It feels the same for me.”

It’s quiet for a long moment, his hand rubbing soothingly along Hank's belly. Then it slides up his chest. "Can I kiss you again, Hank?"

The hot flush that runs through Hank at the question is exquisite. He twists in Connor’s arms and their mouths meet blindly, with a lazy heat as their tongues seek each other’s mouths at the same time. Connor’s laughter puffs softly against his wet lips and he coaxes Hank’s tongue into his mouth with little flicks of his own. The low hum that rumbles from Hank’s chest is wonderful for Connor to feel against him. He holds Hank’s face between his hands and rubs at his cheeks and beard, an experience of reverence.

His leg curls around Hank’s hip and he makes a soft, surprised noise as Hank’s kisses veer gently off his mouth— adorning the corner of his mouth, his jaw, cheeks, nose, with the shape of his lips. He takes Connor’s hand in his and his mouth presses to Connor’s fingers, his palm. Against Hank’s closed eyes, he sees a new source of light bleed into view. The texture under his lips changes, all smooth and sleek. He chuckles quietly against the warmth of Connor’s palm, giving another slow whiskery kiss. He brushes their noses together, feeling Connor’s fingers slot through his.

Hank smooths the soft locks of his hair back and meets his heavy eyes. He feels himself slip towards sleep while Hank’s thumb strokes along one of his brows. Blinking slowly, he finds his voice and recalls a moment he wanted to sink into. “What did you want to ask me?”

Hank is so relaxed, he just brushes their lips again. He accepts Connor will remember better than him and think on a different, wonderful wavelength. The questions are just par for the course. “What do you mean, Con?”

“Your text. You wanted to ask me, when I had the time.” He lets Hank draw their hands apart and lead him to hold on again. He slips his hand under Hank’s shirt, bare hand skittering along his skin. At Hank’s lower back, be pulls them flush together. “I have time now. I’m so curious.”

There’s a long moment where Hank has to wrack his brain for the information he’s being asked for, distracted by the warmth and weight and feeling of Connor. But then he does remember, and it seems so far away from right now. He rests their foreheads together, loving the gentle caress of fingertips along his spine. “I wanted to ask you on a date, that was it.”

Connor’s smile is blissful and sleepy. “Oh, I like that.” he tucks closer into Hank’s body and hums as his eyes slip shut. “This was a wonderful date, Hank. The best one I’ve ever had.”

Hank doesn’t think Connor fully understands, but he can’t blame him for it, not when he’s so worn out. He cradles him close with a soft huff, fluttering with something tender on the inside. “Ah, honey…” Connor doesn’t say anything more and Hank drops a kiss to his head, whispering into his sweet smelling hair, “We’ll have more, better and better.”

He dozes with Connor for maybe an hour, sleeping light as he gets used to laying with another person again. He learns that Connor's fingers twitch in his sleep, but he's not sure if that's normal or the virus. Either way, it's a tidbit he takes with him when he carefully pries himself from Connor's embrace. He looks even softer while he's asleep and Hank's heart aches just a little, partly wishing he didn't have to go. Or more like, he wishes he could go home, but he'd take this with him. This sweet man and the whole of his mattress, every pillow and blanket, every touch sustained with the lingering smell of cocoa butter and rose, the vulnerability he feels wide open on display in this dark room.

He gets his shoes and coat back on, and gently takes Connor's hand in both of his, pressing one last kiss to his knuckles. The shift of his skin to bare himself even in sleep is so tender Hank almost lays back down. But in the end he retrieves his nearly empty duffle from the bathroom counter and quietly makes his way towards the front door. 

There's a lone light on in the living room, 900 perched in a chair with a tablet in his hands. He raises his gaze when Hank walks in, "Not saying goodbye?"

He smiles softly, shaking his head. "He needs the rest. The virus will clear up soon, right?"

"Yes. By tomorrow, he should be running optimally again." 900 sets the tablet aside to stand, his dark clothes blending in with all the shadows.

"Good, good." Hank adjusts his bag on his shoulder. "Thank you, for letting me into your home. It was kind of you, and it was nice to meet you."

900 tilts his head just so, something almost like fondness, or acceptance. "It was nice to meet you as well, Hank… to see who Connor wouldn't stop talking about for months now."

Hank goes a little pink, ducking his head. "Hope I lived up to it."

900's piercing gaze narrows somewhat, like he's evaluating. Then to Hank's surprise he reaches out to touch Hank's hand in reassurance, a small squeeze. "You did."

He doesn't know why - maybe it's exhaustion, maybe it's his heart going through the stress of adoring Connor, but Hank feels like he could cry from those two words. He doesn't know what to say. The most important person to Connor is giving him a green light. He swallows roughly and lays his hand over 900's, "That's— thank you. I'm just glad I could help."

He realizes with a start that 900's skin comes away with the touch, too. Just a minor ripple when Hank squeezes and then he pulls away, giving a light nod. "Goodnight, Hank."

He returns the goodbye quietly and leaves the same way, sort of floating on some kind of feeling. Thinking it through. Connor's bare touch felt drastically different than 900's. With Connor it was like openly yearning for connection, like wanting to be embraced. With 900 it was resigned, quick but significant still. Like he's been marked with approval, or… deemed worthy. Like when his ex mother-in-law gave him a late night slice of cake the first Christmas he spent with them. 900 let him know he finds him worthy of Connor with a deliberate, accepting move. _ Shit_.

He makes the trek home easily, the traffic at this time of night dwindling into almost nothing. The lights are off at home, except for the one overhead at the front door that Cole left for him. Inside, the TV is streaming reruns of old cartoons for the idle light and noise. Sumo is in his bed but trots over lazily when Hank stretches out a hand, greeting him softly. Peering over the back of the couch, he finds his son and friend fast asleep.

They look like sleep won out, slumped laying together, arms around each other. Hank takes the blanket off the back of the couch and drapes it over them, and blatantly ignores the mess the coffee table has become. There's nothing Sumo can easily get into so he just heads for his room and leaves the door cracked for the dog. He realizes while getting out of his shoes and coat that he kept Connor's sweater on. He makes a mental note to give it back while holding tight to the piece of Connor he still has. In bed he tugs his pillows close and looks forward to any dreams that may come to him.

> #H: I can't wait for more dates with you, Con.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, it's been a while! I know I could've ended the fic there, but I just... ya'll I love this AU. It's taken a bit of a back seat because of inktober, but please take this update 💕

When Hank rolls over in bed, barely awake in a warm haze, he thinks for a moment that he’s still with Connor. The smell of his body and home, and he reaches across the sheet in search of him. Only meeting crumpled blankets is a little sad, but he remembers Connor is blissfully asleep while the last of his virus is cleared up. And that helps.

He stays in bed for a while on his phone, checking his messages and email, browsing for a few things to read. He texts Jeffrey and tells him that he saw Connor, that he did ask him on that date and Connor thought they were already on one. After, he pulls himself out of bed and finds some sweats to slip into before he heads out towards the living room. The boys are still asleep, thankfully, it’s only three in the morning. He skirts around the couch to collect his laptop and headphones from his desk, bringing them into the kitchen so he can make breakfast. He fills the electric kettle and puts on a pot for soft boiled eggs, then settles in with a heaping spoonful of chunky peanut butter to boot up his laptop.

Knowing work comes later, he takes the time to watch something he likes and grabs his notes from his bag on the chair next to him. He still has to finish his report on the homicide and he’s finally done with the damn case. With his headphones on he multitasks in the time it takes for eggs to boil, the quiet morning filled with a new season of a makeover show and the tap of his keyboard as he types. Sumo gently ambles over to the couch, licking Cole’s fingers and then making his way to Hank when he doesn’t get pet.

“Hey, bud.” he whispers, reaching down to scratch at Sumo’s ears. He gets his arm licked for his trouble and a paw on his leg. “What is it, huh? My big baby boy. What is it?”

Sumo huffs and wiggles, starting to work up to a short bark. Hank shushes him before it can happen, taking his headphones off to give him all the attention, “Shh. Cole and his friend are sleeping. Show me.”

It’s easy for Sumo to recognize the command and he turns away, going towards his doggy door. Hank shuts off the stove off and follows him over. Sumo gives him a happy look before heading outside, and peeks back in to check if Hank’s coming.

“Alright, alright.” Hank steps into his slippers and quietly goes out to the backyard. Sumo is so excited he’s gotten his way and runs to get his favorite ball. It’s a crisp morning and Hank smiles to himself, pulling up his chair on the porch. “You’re such a good boy, Sumo. Gettin’ me all this fresh air.”

Sumo boofs now that he’s outside, coming up to drop his ball at Hank’s feet. Hank happily picks it up and tosses it out into the yard, watching Sumo scramble to go after it. He’s content to play this game for a while, the dog deserves it, and it is part of the training that Sumo encourage Hank out of the house so he doesn’t get into the habit of isolating himself. He thinks about how good of a dog he has, he’s so glad the big lug is his. Maybe he’ll take him into work today, Sundays are usually slow in the office.

“What do you think, Sumo? You wanna go to work with me today?” He asks as Sumo brings the ball back again for the half dozenth time. He rubs Sumo’s head and laughs when his face is licked. “Ah, okay! I get ya. Sounds good to me, too.”

He tosses the increasingly slobbery ball again and Sumo goes after it with the same gusto. He gives Sumo a few comforting words as the dog plays and rolls around on the cool grass, saying he’ll be right back. The kettle is just getting ready to make noise when he stops it short and makes himself a cup of tea. The honey he bought at the farmer’s market last month tastes so good he takes a spoonful directly into his mouth. He puts in a load of laundry and takes his phone from the table as he goes by.

The lumps on the couch stir slightly and Cole’s friend grunts, turning his head where it’s resting on Cole’s chest. He blinks into slow awareness and looks over at Hank blearily. Hank just smiles and waves, “Hey, Milo. You got time, go back to sleep.”

Milo waves back and smiles, then lowers his head back down to rest. Hank knows he’ll fall back asleep easy, that kid can sleep literally anywhere. He heads back out and laughs at Sumo hopping around at the sight of him coming back. He stays outside with Sumo until the sun starts to show over the horizon, the whole world washed in gold. It’s relaxing, and warm when it reaches Hank. He can’t resist taking a photo of Sumo in the new light and then praising him for posing so well. It ends up with Hank on the porch steps, letting Sumo sit all over him and be held like he’s still a puppy. He takes a selfie of the two of them, squinting from a combination of the sun, Sumo’s lick across the face, and how big he’s smiling.

When they go back inside, Cole is leaning into the fridge to get some chocolate milk boxes, still swamped with sleep. Hank gives him a smile as he skirts by to get to the kettle again, “Mornin’, kid.”

Cole grunts at him and pats his back, not awake enough to be talking yet. He slugs his way back to the couch and Milo has to open both of their milk boxes because Cole is so uncoordinated when he first wakes up. Hank shells all the eggs and makes a half dozen slices of toast, putting together plates for the boys first and then himself. He brings them over and Milo gives a soft thank you, Cole makes a noise that sounds like a thankful hiccup.

“It’s—” He starts, but Cole bites into an egg and the yolk spills out, caught just by the slice of toast he’s holding near his chin. “Soft yolk, honey.”

The look of accepting, frozen surprise on Cole’s face is priceless. Hank snorts and turns away to laugh, going back to the kitchen table for his own breakfast. Milo chuckles in delight, dabbing his own toast on Cole’s to steal some of his yolk. Halfway through breakfast Sumo comes trotting over for his own breakfast. Hank mixes it up for him and sets it down with a little smooch to the top of his head.

When Hank goes to get ready for work he picks out something he’d see as normal every day attire, then pauses. He stops himself, and decides he wants to look very nice today. He has time, so he takes it to look through his best silk shirts and some dress pants he usually would do without. He looks at himself in the mirror after, still doing up some buttons on his patterned blue and yellow shirt. Shifts around to look at his reflection and leaves a few buttons undone at the top because he's feeling cheeky. Shoulder holster on, coat and jacket, and he's almost ready.

"Sumo!" He calls as he opens his bedroom door, then takes the dog's thicker vest from the closet. Sumo comes trotting in with a little boof, excited to see his vest out. He stands dutifully as Hank sits on the bed and gets him into it. "We're gonna go to work. Police time. We're going to see Jeff, and Ben, and Chris. And Cherry, they always have treats for you behind the reception desk."

Sumo pants happily, wiggling his butt as Hank tries to do up his buckles. He rubs Sumo's ears and neck when he's done, giving him a few kisses, "Time to go. Go say goodbye, then we get in the car."

The dog bound off at the mention of goodbye and the car, and Hank hears Cole sputter with laughter a few moments later.

He heads out towards the entryway, patting his pockets to make sure he's got his phone and wallet, keys in his jacket pocket. He gathers Sumo's leash and waits patiently while Sumo gives Cole and then Milo kisses goodbye. "I'll see what they need from me today, I'll text you when I'm coming home. Remember to clean that table up."

"Yeah, Pop." Cole smiles, wiping his wet cheek with his sleeve while Sumo bumps up against Hank's legs. "Remember to have a good day, don't drown yourself in that shitty coffee."

Hank snorts and clips Sumo's leash on. He retrieves his gun from the lock box, sliding it into the holster. "But I'm so good at that."

"You look snazzy, Mr. Anderson. It'll be a great day!" Milo pipes up, still wrapped snug in a blanket.

"Now that's the spirit! Thanks, kid." He gestures to Milo, looking at Cole, "Motivational. I can look this snazzy and drown myself in shitty police coffee."

Cole rolls his eyes and waves him out the door, "You'll regret it!"

Hank laughs and tells them both to be good, all the standard goodbyes. A chorus of love and to be safe and have good days follows him out, as he and Sumo leave to start their day.

Cole was right, he regrets the coffee. It churns his stomach and gives him a headache, but grits his teeth and bears it. Sumo looks so happy to be at work, especially when they came in and he got pampered and loved on by everyone. And even more, when Ben keeps giving Sumo things to bring back to Hank, to help him feel useful.

Sumo trots over dutifully with another case file in his little basket and Hank chuckles, taking it like he has everything else, “Thanks, bud. Such a good boy. Sit, now.” He looks over to Ben, giving him a grin. “You’re spoiling him.”

“Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” Ben denies with a barely contained smile.

Hank snorts and shakes his head, opening the file but taking out his phone to check first. There’s a text from Cole that says he’ll be going out later with Milo to the mall, and to let him know when he’ll be home. There’s also a text from Connor— well, a few of them.

> #H: I can't wait for more dates with you, Con.
> 
> — Today, 8:21am
> 
> #C: I fell out of bed, Hank.  
#C: When I read that.  
#C: What an exhilarating experience!
> 
> #H: Exhilarating? The message or the falling?
> 
> #C: Yes!

Hank stifles a giddy laugh. Sumo looks up at him and he gives the dog a bright smile, rubbing the top of his head. Connor makes him so happy, it’s incredible how easily he can do it.

> #H: You’re such a peach, Con. How are you feeling?
> 
> #C: I enjoy that nickname so much. I’m feeling much better! The virus is gone and I’m easily running through the last of the wellness patch. Thank you, Hank. For being there for me… it was wonderful.
> 
> #H: I just wish I could’ve stayed longer, made you breakfast or something.
> 
> #C: I understand why you had to, I’m so thankful you stayed until I was asleep. You did so much for me.
> 
> #H: Wish I could do more, honey.

It takes a moment for the reply to come, and Hank feels some mix of bashful and embarrassed.

> #C: Do you let people do things for you, Hank?
> 
> #H: Uh… Well, I mean. Look at how hesitant I was about getting new soap.
> 
> #C: This is true, you were nervous. I could tell.  
#C: Hank… will you let me do something for you?

Hank feels the nerves roll in, a little bit of anticipation.

> #H: Depends on what it is, honey

He shoves his phone away as Chris comes over to collect completed reports from his desk and give Sumo a few pets. “Hey, Lieutenant. Don’t know if anyone told you, but we arrested that guy and he surrendered with minimal resistance. He was so shocked we caught him, thanks to you.”

“Shit, I’m glad.” he says, leaning back in his chair. “Thanks to you and Chen for going, I don’t think I could’ve stood up much longer to make the arrest.”

Chris smiles, shrugging off the thanks while looking so happy about it. “I hope you can earn back the rest you missed, Lieutenant.”

“Workin’ on it.” He chuckles. Chris goes around to pick up the rest of the files and he slips his phone back out to check on Connor’s message.

> #C: Let me buy you lunch.

“Ah, jeez.” He whispers, shaking his head. He doesn’t want Connor to feel like he has to do anything for him, though he loves how much Connor cares.

> #H: You don’t have to do that, Connor.
> 
> #C: I want to. Please.

He starts typing that it’s alright, Connor should keep his money and get himself something nice, when another text pops up.

> #C: Don’t be typing no, Hank Anderson.  
#C: If you can buy me dog stuffed animals, I can feed you.  
#C: I will feed you during another bath if I have to!

Hank flushes up red, feeling something warm pool low in his stomach. Their last bath is still so vivid in his brain, he can feel the softness of Connor’s bare skin and smell the glittering bath water. He can still hear Connor’s raspy voice in his ear.

> #H: Connor, honey. Holy shit.  
#H: I can’t say no to you, you’re too sweet
> 
> #C: More seriously, you can always say no. Your consent and enthusiasm is very important.  
#C: I want to take care of you, too.

Hank feels himself go all tender for this man, yet again. He wishes he was here to hug. God, he wishes he could kiss Connor again, too. Those kisses were intoxicating and clarifying all at once. Maybe he needs to let himself be vulnerable again to get them.

> #H: Connor… Take care of me. It’s not easy for me, but I want you to.
> 
> #C: I’ll take such good care of you, Hank.

It takes Hank twenty minutes to get back into the groove of work after Connor so thoroughly softening him up with their conversation, with promises and sweetness. He tries not to smile like an idiot at his desk, and listen during his meeting. He takes Sumo out on their breaks and puts down a bowl of kibble with his water bowl.

He dives deep into the work, the usually slow tasks of filing and review, overseeing the work of those below him. He sends off requests for attached evidence numbers, transcripts for interviews and interrogations, emails upon emails and finally off towards Fowler. His eyes burn slightly from squinting at his screen for so long, but it feels good to get it out of the way. He doesn’t even realize how long it’s been until his ears prick into a conversation taking place.

“I’m here to see Lieutenant Anderson. This is my visitor badge. Do you know where his desk is?” A sweet, raspy, familiar voice comes from the entrance of the bullpen.

“Are you part of a case or something? A witness?” Ben asks, some confusion lingering in his tone.

“No,” Connor smiles, straightening up with pride. “I’m his friend.”

Hank stumbles up from his desk, his whole pelvis and lower back aching from sitting for too long. He didn’t realize the morning went and slipped into afternoon, or that Connor meant lunch today, or bringing lunch to him. He doesn’t mind— with a wave of excitement and anticipation flushing up on his cheeks, he’s actually incredibly happy about it. He just lost track of time.

“_You’re _ Hank’s friend?” Ben steps back to look at Connor anew, eyebrows raised high.

“Connor.” He rolls his stiff shoulders while he walks over, the middle of his back popping so hard it’s audible. Goddamn, he’ll be paying for that tomorrow. Connor’s eyes meet his, and they immediately scrunch with the brightness of his smile. There’s two takeout bags in his hands and he preens happily just having Hank’s eyes on him. “I shoulda made a better schedule, I didn’t realize you meant today.”

Connor steps closer, looking like he wants to touch. But there is a touch of concern, “Oh, you didn’t eat lunch, did you?”

“No. No, I…” _ didn’t take care of myself on accident_, he doesn’t say. He eyes Connor and Ben with a little guilt.

“You…” Connor’s eyes scan him, sweeping over his body and then darting around. A look of understanding passes over him. “You hunched at your desk for too long. Hank, you were even too close to a screen.”

Ben shakes his head, arms crossed over his chest. “Don’t even have your glasses on.”

Hank grimaces at Ben playfully, taking Connor by the arm to lead them back towards his desk, “Don’t tell Jeff, he’ll take me to the eye doctor himself.”

“Oh, Hank.” Connor whispers as he reaches up to barely brush Hank’s cheek, concerned about his level of eye strain.

“I’m okay.” He promises, grabbing another chair to place at his desk. His hands feel sweaty, he has to relax into the feeling of Connor making his heart race. “Ah, honey… You brought me lunch.”

“Yes, it’s your favorite.” Connor tells him as they sit together, settling the bags on the desk. Hank gives him a curious look and then unknots the plastic bag, leaning into look. His face goes slack with surprise. Connor grins smugly, “Yes. Yes, I know.”

Hank inhales the smell of his favorite Chicken Feed sandwich, stomach suddenly coming alive to growl loudly. “Oh, my god. Connor… I can’t believe this. You went to all this trouble?”

“It was fun, stop worrying. I enjoyed finding it.” He eagerly helps Hank take everything out of the plastic bag, and then the bottled drinks in the paper bag. “Please, go on. You sound so hungry, Hank.”

“Thank you.” Hank all but groans, flipping open the container of his burger.

At the smell of food and curiosity of someone new to interact with, Sumo peeks around the side of the desk. Connor had been so wrapped up in scanning Hank he hadn't seen him. But now he gasps, instinctively pushing a hand out as invitation, "You’re Sumo."

Hank smiles into his burger, Connor's voice light as air with awe. Sumo's ears perk up excitedly and he comes around the desk to Connor's chair. Usually when someone knows his name, he gets twice the love out of them. He's never seen Connor, but Hank watches him sniff Connor's shins and knows he must catch the scent that lingered on Hank when he came home.

Connor immediately puts his hands by his sides, looking at Sumo's vest like it's broken his heart, "Oh, he's working."

"You can pet him, Con. It's okay." Hank says around a mouthful, waving a hand insistently when Connor hesitates.

The look on Connor's face is downright precious. He ever so gently runs his hands over Sumo's head and down his floppy ears, like he's been blessed with a great gift, "Sumo. I know your name, we can be friends. I'm Connor, please let me be your friend."

Sumo huffs quietly and pushes his nose into Connor's palm, and Connor eeks out a soft thank you like he's going to cry. Hank reaches over to squeeze his shoulder, "He likes you, his tail's going a mile a minute."

"I like him!" Connor coos, testing scratches now. "Why have him wear the ‘do not touch’ vest if I'm allowed to touch him?"

"Mostly for when we're out and about, when he needs to be alert for me. But at the station he gets a little slack. And he's put his skills to work a few times here. If we gotta interview a kid and this big ol teddy bear comes in, it usually goes well." Hank explains, praises his dog.

"I think I understand." Connor says, letting Sumo pillow his head on his lap, "He's a very good dog."

Sumo's tail just swipes back and forth faster. Hank sets his burger down to lean back in his chair, taking his phone out to snap a photo of them. Connor looks up at him after he's taken it and smiles brightly, prompting another. As he scoots back in towards his desk, he pulls forward the other food. "Aren't you gonna eat?"

"Yes! Sorry, I was understandably distracted." Hank sets the other food in front of him and he rubs his hands with the sanitizer on the corner of the desk. He gazes at Hank, with his soft moisturized face and mustard at the corner of his mouth. “I’m still understandably distracted.”

Hank looks at him questionably, then realizes what the expression on Connor’s face is. Open adoration. He goes red and Connor absolutely delights in it, fingers twitching like he wants to reach up and touch. But he spares a glance around and ducks his head bashfully, reaching for his burger and shifting the container so Hank can get at his fries.

“You make me want you so much.” Hank whispers, and surprises himself as much as Connor with the words.

Connor looks up at him with his cheeks full and a pickle sliding out of his burger. “Hank…” Sumo sneaks his head up just before the pickle drops and it falls right into his mouth. Connor gasps, looking down as the dog chews. “Sumo!”

Hank stifles his laugh into his next bite.

They have a quiet lunch, talking softly back and forth over their food. It feels so good to see him again, and Hank says as much. He looks so good, a lot more lively and well, no glitches to speak of. He sits up so straight and his foot gently nudges Hank's under the desk, with one of those little smiles.

Hank has him try his soda after saying he's never had any before. The bubbles burst across his sensitive tongue and scrunch up his face. Hank lets out a loud snort before forcefully hiding the rest of his laugh, giving a quick glance around the bullpen.

"That's a sensation, for sure." Connor wiggles his jaw and wrinkles his nose, giving the bottle back to Hank. "My sensors aren't equipped for that."

"Sorry, honey. I didn't mean to laugh, I just…"

"You thought my face was funny." Connor pokes at his chest, trying to sound accusing but his smile shines through.

"I think your face is incredible." Hank says the cheesiest line as he gets bold enough to wrap his hand around Connor's, seeing as it's so close. Connor turns a sweet pink and preens at the words.

The door of Jeff's office swings open and he's already calling into the bullpen, "Hank, in my office—" he stops abruptly, seeing Hank and more importantly _ Connor _ turn to look at him. "Ah… nevermind."

Connor turns his gaze back to Hank, "That's the Captain?"

"Yeah, that's Jeff." Hank says, looking over Connor's shoulder to where his best friend is at the glass wall of his office, watching them closely.

Connor makes a quiet noise of excitement, "Jeff… your friend? Your boss is your best friend?"

Jefferey points at them with a jabbing hand, eyebrows high when he mouths, 'That's him?!'

"Uh huh…" Hank replies to Connor distractedly, nodding slightly. Jeff makes an excellent face, animatedly losing his shit over this. Hank feels himself start to blush furiously. 

'Holy shit!' Jeff mouths, putting his hand on his forehead. He gives Hank an energetic ‘OK’ gesture, nodding approvingly.

"It must be so nice to work with your best friend! You can see him all the time." Connor praises, unaware of Hank dying inside.

He huffs in embarrassment and gives Connor a bashful smile. "Yeah baby, it's great. Do you wanna take a walk?"

Connor's eyes light up at the new nickname. "I'd love to."

Hank hastily gets his jacket on and clips Sumo's leash. He gives Jeff an exasperated look as he ushers Connor out. Jeff grins brightly at him, then leans out of his office to look at Tina. She’s giggling over the whole thing, has the perfect view from her desk. Jeff sounds close to giggling himself, "Chen, get back to work!"

Connor signs the visitor book before they leave and gives his badge back. Hank takes a deep breath when they step out the doors, the crisp first mentions of autumn in the air. He makes it down the steps with Sumo faster than normal, and he looks back to see Connor following. He gives Hank some kind of look that lights up his heart, and then he's walking faster to throw himself in Hank's arms.

Hank laughs breathlessly, finally getting to touch him without needing to be professional. Connor stands on his toes to keep both arms secure around Hank's shoulders and Hank holds tight to his waist, lifting him maybe an inch to squeeze him. Connor's laughter bursts against his hair. Sumo bounces excitedly and barks, looking up at the two of them happily.

“I wanted to do this the moment I saw you.” Connor whispers, elated. “I knew I couldn’t but god, I wanted to.”

“Honey…” he draws his hands up Connor’s back, liking the way the android shivers and then melts against him. He could savor this forever, but Sumo gently paws at his pant leg and he knows he’s made other promises. “Come on, let’s walk.”

It takes Connor another second to let go of him, but when he does they walk Sumo together, shoulder to shoulder. His arm brushes Hank’s as they move down the street, Sumo checking back every few dozen paces to make sure they’re both still with him. Connor’s smart shoes clack softly on the sidewalk and Hank keeps glancing over to him, adoring the way Connor can’t stop smiling, or how he smooths his sweater against his chest. Their hands brush when they sway and Connor’s fingers gently thread through his.

“Is this alright?” He asks, the breeze shifting his curls onto his forehead.

Hank smiles and squeezes Connor’s hand, “Yeah, it’s alright. It’s good. Like, super good.”

Connor huffs with bashful laughter and squeezes back. They walk across the street and further away from the station. Sumo stops to smell some trash cans and try to make friends with a cat in a bookstore window that meows at him. Connor coos at the cat, taking a moment to play by moving his finger in front of the glass for the cat to follow. When they move on, Sumo catches sight of trees and swiftly leads them there, knowing exactly where he is.

The small park is settled in the middle of a ring of shops and other businesses— including that new coffee shop with the artisan donuts. Sumo leads him right to his usual bench under the cherry blossom tree and sits for Hank to take off his leash. Connor watches with an intrigued look, “Do you do this with him often? He seemed to know every step.”

“He’s a smart boy.” Hank kneels to unclip the leash and kiss Sumo’s head, “He went through so much training to learn to recognize routine and lead me places, so if I couldn’t do it myself, he could. It’s like I’m _ his _ pet. He even took me outside this morning for fetch.”

He signs what Sumo’s learned as ‘go find a toy’ and the dog bounds off, knowing not to stray too far or leave the fenced area. He straightens up and stretches to alleviate some pain in his back, resulting in a series of audible cracks. Connor settles a hand on his spine in concern even as he laughs, “He took you outside for fetch? Oh, he’s a very smart dog. Did you have fun?”

“Yeah, three in the morning for tea and a slobbery, grass stained ball.” He fondly shakes his head, taking Connor’s hand, “I’m okay, it happens all the time. Just old.”

Connor makes a face, an amused wrinkle of his nose and gives him a smile. Sumo comes back with a stick and eagerly taps his paws on the ground, ready for Hank to start playing. He takes the stick and throws it nearby, watching as Sumo has the time of his life going after it, “Do you need to be back at any certain time?”

When he looks back, Connor has stepped very close to him. Looking up at him with a softness in his eyes and wetting his lips. “I have all the time in the world.”

“Oh.” He whispers, mapping out each freckle on Connor’s face.

“Actually, I have dinner with 900 at seven, but…” he shrugs, hand gently settling on Hank’s belly. “Well, I thought it was romantic.”

“It was.” Hank nods softly, hands useless at his sides as Connor speaks so soft and lovely to him. “Connor… you look so nice.”

“I was just about to say the same to you!” he preens, fingers curling in Hank’s jacket, “You look incredible in these slacks.”

“Ah, jeez. Connor…” Hank shifts from foot to foot, putting that sweet bit of information away. If Connor likes the slacks… well, _ Hank _ in the slacks, then he might have to commit to wearing them more.

Sumo comes back with the stick and this time it’s Connor that takes it, tossing it with ease. “Hank, are you alright with public displays of affection?”

“Why? You got some affection for me?” He lets his hand settle on Connor’s back now as he moves close again. He spares a glance around at the others in the park. There’s an elderly pair on a bench with crossword puzzles. The others a group of three young adults on the picnic blanket, two kissing while the other watches fondly sprawled across their laps. Hank thinks if Connor wants a display of affection, it won’t be too out of place.

He turns back to give Connor another smooth line, to smile at him and see him smile back, but Connor is already dragging him down for a kiss. He hums into it, the softness of Connor’s mouth like satisfying a craving. There’s a soft noise in return, the drag of their lips slow and easy, warmth blooming in Hank’s cheeks and stomach. Connor’s fingers thread into his beard, stroke gently at his mustache when he tips his head and gently teases his tongue into the mix. He shivers and pulls Connor flush against him, letting himself bask in this for a moment. Connor goes willingly, so warm against the light breeze.

When they slowly part, Connor whispers with his words brushing Hank’s top lip. “Your beard is so well oiled, it’s wonderful.”

He feels his heart ache in the best way, his chest so light. He gently smooths Connor’s curls back from his forehead, “You smell like Froot Loops.”

Connor snorts loudly and drops his head onto Hank’s shoulder. Hank’s fingers run up over the short hairs on the back of his head, a delighted shiver shooting down through his spine. Sumo stops at their feet and Hank leans over with Connor still held against his neck, retrieving the stick. He sneaks his arm around Hank’s waist when he lifts his arm to throw, nose at Hank’s jaw, “You have to go back to work soon, don’t you?”

“Unfortunately. I always got some kinda timetable going on.” He runs his fingers over the back of Connor’s neck, dipping below the neckline of his sweater.

“Can I buy a slot at the table?” Connor asks, looking up at him.

Hank smiles at the unexpected question. “What were you thinkin’?”

“Dinner. Date. Seeing you again.” He shrugs, getting a light squeeze in on Hank’s side, “Anything.”

“Another bath?” Hank jokes, chuckling softly as he pulls back to pet Sumo. Connor kneels down to join in petting such a sweet dog.

“Absolutely, we can.” He says, bright and cheerful. Sumo nuzzles into his shoulder and brings a paw up insistently for a hug with his new friend. He looks up enough to see Hank flush a little pink.

“Ah, jeez.” Hank shakes his head and plops down onto the bench, “You’re too much. I… _ we can_, I mean. You don’t want to go out and be, y’know, shown off?”

“What do you mean?” Connor asks, letting himself be sat into the grass by Sumo.

"I mean, a young thing like you? You don't wanna go for dinner or dancing? Take pictures of your food?"

"I don't know how to dance." He shakes his head, laughing softly. "But Hank… I may look this way, but I'm not.. young. I'm fully grown. Well, technically I'm only a few years old, production-wise. But otherwise, I'm no more or less as grown as you."

Hank takes that in for a thoughtful moment, looking at Connor so fondly getting his face licked. He looks so vibrant, and Hank remembers that the man he's seeing is a different species. Smarter, faster, stronger. But softer, in a way. Connor’s still learning the world in practice instead of off intellect and construct alone. It just makes Hank happier that Connor’s choosing to add him to his world.

“I’d let you take pictures of me, though.” Connor says, drawing Hank back into the present. “Instead of pictures of food. I like being looked at.”

“So I’ve noticed.” Hank snorts, shaking his head fondly.

“I like your attention.” He smiles, leaning back enough to rest his head against Hank’s knee.

Hank stores that sweetness away, too. His fingers card through Connor’s hair, spinning one of his curls. “And I like giving it to you, honeybee.”

Connor’s knees wiggle and Sumo butts against them. “I really like the nicknames.”

"Hm." He leans down, pressing a kiss to Connor's hairline. He closes his eyes against the soft vulnerability he feels bubbling up. "Honey. Baby. Sweetheart. Buttercup."

Connor rumbles with delighted laughter, pressing up against Hank's lips. "Cup of butter. Ha!"

Hank makes a sputtering, raspberry chuckle and lays his cheek against Connor's head, "Fuckin' hell, Connor."

"I love them all, Hank." He reaches up to run his fingers through Hank’s hair, drawing them down a slim group of strands. His voice pitches lower, teasingly sensual, “Hey, sweet thing… would you let me braid your hair?”

Now Hank laughs from his belly, hunching over until he feels it in his back. “Connor, that’s not flirting!”

“It made you red, that’s valid flirting!” Connor twists to see him, pressing a wet kiss to his cheek. Sumo huddles around too, trying to lick Hank’s face.

“The blood rushing to my head from leaning over made me red!” Hank pushes Sumo away after a few kisses, wiping his face with his sleeve. Connor rubs his cheeks, he’s lovingly assaulted from two fronts.

“Perhaps.” Connor shrugs, giving that smug smile. “I was serious about your hair.”

He leans back on the bench and smiles lazily, his fingers curling around Connor’s on his knee. “If you wanna make it part of a date, I wouldn’t be opposed…”

Connor brightens and nods, pulling himself up onto the bench. He brushes off his knees and shakes Hank’s hand excitedly. “We could go to a movie together, those are enjoyable. Or we could go on another walk with Sumo, maybe in the evening. I can interface with computers, we could play some VR if you’d like. I’m also learning how to paint, I could paint you! Do you know how to knead bread, Hank? We could do that! Hank—!”

“Woah, woah! Honey, slow down.” He squeezes Connor’s hand in both of his, admittedly a little overwhelmed at all the options. But it means Connor would want to do each thing with him, the desire to spend time with Hank is there. “I like all of those ideas. If you wanna make a list, that’s good with me.”

“I can do that.” Connor says, his eyes tender like he wasn’t expecting the acceptance. Maybe he’s had people tell him to tone it down, but Hank is more than content to listen to his every idea so long as he’s excited to share.

“Will you give me a copy?” He brushes Connor’s cheek with the backs of his knuckles, happy to see a flush overtake him too.

“Of course I can, Hank.”

The smile is so sweet and his lips brushing Hank’s is wonderful. His phone buzzes in his pocket, signalling he has to go back to work, but he lets himself hold Connor’s face between his hands first and take this moment of calm.

“You fucking Cassanova! Hank, he looks like a damn model!” Jeffrey shakes Hank’s shoulder while they’re waiting for coffee on the second floor of the station. Evidently Jeff had been waiting the entire time Hank was gone with the excitement that made him leave. He loves this man so much, it’s ridiculous.

“He’s—! Yeah, well!” He fumbles anyway, reaching for the good coffee creamer they keep stashed in the mini fridge. “I know his model _ number_, so technically…”

Jeffrey snorts, shaking his head fondly. “You should’ve brought him in and introduced me! I would’ve been cool.”

“Jeff, you were bouncing like Sumo does when he knows he’s gonna get people food.” Hank fixes him with a deadpan tone and a weary look. In all honesty he’s really glad Jeff wanted to meet Connor, even if it would’ve been embarrassing as hell on Hank’s part. Jeff and Connor probably would have found something exciting to talk about among themselves.

Jeffrey wilts slightly, giving a knowing smile, “Yeah, but I would’ve liked to see the guy that makes you so damn giddy.”

Hank takes his coffee from the mouth of the machine, grabbing his stir sticks and the creamer. “Maybe next time, okay? He _ was _ real excited that my boss is also my best friend.”

“As he should be. I’m good all around.” Jeffrey grins, settling his cup into the coffee machine next. It sputters softly before continuing the drip. "You gonna see him again soon?"

"He's making a whole list of date ideas." He replies into his cup, taking in the warmth. "He started generating a bunch, so I just asked for a list."

"Big brain." Jeff muses, taking the coffee creamer from Hank to give it a longing sniff. He can't wait to have some, he's serious about his coffee.

"I'm gonna read up about his brain. It was recommended that I do." Hank nods, leaning back against the counter.

"Recommended by who?"

"By 900." He says, then extends his explanation when Jeff searches for it. "Taller, broad as fuck, looks like Connor. Like, almost exactly. He's Connor's… something. They're real close, Connor loves and thinks the world of him."

"Ah, like me to you." Jeff says with an air of importance and a grand flourish of his hand down along his body. Hank spurts coffee onto the counter when he laughs, hard and full-bodied.

Jeff claps him on the back, looking so smug and pleased with himself. He wipes his mouth on his sleeve and shakes his head, "You're a bastard."

"You _ love _ me." Jeffrey needles, leaning into Hank's back.

Hank sighs, smiling as he wraps an arm around his best friend. "Oh, for better or worse."

"Knew you cared, Hanky Panky." Jeffrey grins, looking up at him so overdramatic.

"I hate you." Hank shoves him back, rolling his eyes at the incessant giggles that follow.

> #H: You know, I still have your sweater.
> 
> #C: Oh! Are you wearing it, Hank?
> 
> #H: No, I washed it and folded it. So I could give it back to you.
> 
> #C: Aw. I wish you were wearing it.
> 
> #H: You do?
> 
> #C: Yes. I think about it often.
> 
> #H: Oh, honey.
> 
> #C: Please wear it, Hank.
> 
> #H: What about giving it back to you?
> 
> #C: … I can come by sometime and pick it up.  
#C: Maybe when I finish that list for us!

… 

… 

> #C: Hank, is that okay?
> 
> #H: [sent a photo]  
#H: Baby, this thing really is so comfy. I can’t wait to see that list of yours, but I think you’ll have to wrestle me outta this sweater.
> 
> #C: HANK  
#C: Oh, I… Oh, I really love that tattoo.


	7. Chapter 7

Hank settles in across the table from where Cole is slumped almost off his chair in concentration, with his tablet propped up and animal crackers scattered on the table. Cole spares him a glance and a tired grin, then finds his line again.

“Hey, kid? You got a sec for your old man?” Hank asks, propping his head up on his arm to mirror Cole.

“Hm, what is it?” Cole doesn’t look away from his screen but Hank expects that sometimes.

“I’m gonna preface this by saying it’s about me. And Connor.” He says, scoffing when Cole ‘oooh’s at him.

“Going on another date already? I give my approval, be back by 10, be safe.” Cole finds an animal cracker lazily, crunching on the legs first.

Hank huffs out a laugh through his nose, shaking his head. “Yes and no. He was gonna come over to pick up his sweater, and I wanted to know if you were okay with that.”

“Is he gonna stay? Do you want me to go out for a while?” Cole asks around chewing, steadily giving Hank more attention as he realizes this is important to his father.

“No, no way. This is your home, I’d never choose someone over you.” Hank feels his stomach drop at the question.

“Woah, Pop.” Cole shakes his head softly, passing him over a cracker. “I know that. That’s not what I meant, breathe for a sec. I just don’t know if you’d want me to meet him.”

“I… Well, that’s what I was gonna ask you.” He replies, taking the advice for a breath as he fiddles with the elephant-shaped cracker. “I don’t know if you’d care to meet him.”

“Dad, I care a lot.” Cole promises, smiling softly.

“Yeah?” He asks, feeling some tension drain from him. Cole nods. He sighs, sinking down into his seat. “Okay. Okay, yeah. Yeah— He wants to come by tomorrow. Is tomorrow okay? Does that work with your plans?”

Cole snorts, squinting at his father happily. “Yeah, I think I can work that in.”

Hank gives him an elated smile and gets up, popping the animal cracker into his mouth. “Okay! I’ll let him know. Then I’ll start dinner.” With Cole’s affirmative hum, he retreats back into the living room to grab his phone and text Connor back, excited and nervous and stamping down the urge to obsessively clean.

> #H: He said tomorrow is fine! He also says that he wants to meet you
> 
> #C: Oh! That makes me so happy. I have to find something nice to wear right away!

Hank chuckles to himself and slips his phone into his pocket, thinking about how he’ll have to do the same.

It’s a clear-skyed day, the chill cut by the warmth of the sun. There’s a gentle breeze that knocks the branches of a tree outside against the porch awning and has Sumo’s attention glued to the back door. Hank cleans up the fur in the kitchen with the portable vacuum and then draws it up Sumo’s back where there’s a tuft of fur ready to fall. Sumo barks in surprise and wiggles for more, but Hank ambles on quickly, yelling to no one in particular. “No one can know he sheds! No one can know we laze around!”

Cole yells back with a mountain of clothes in his arms as he hobbles towards the garage, “He’s an android! He’s going to know!”

“No!” Hank sounds scandalized, muffled under the sound of the vacuum.

Sumo woofs as if in response. Cole drops the laundry in front of the washer and calls back, “I agree with Sumo!”

“No!” Hank yells again, and Cole comes out to the hallway to see his father draped over the couch, trying to get any crumbs or dust that go under the couch. “I’m literally dying right now, be nice to me!”

“He already likes you! He knows you’re a mess!” Cole says dramatically, earning a strangled noise from his father. He runs over and presses down on Hank’s back, bouncing him against the cushions and actually popping his spine, “Pull yourself together!”

Hank whines, bringing the vacuum up to suck at Cole’s shirt in retaliation, to make him laugh and squirm away. He shuts off the vacuum and pulls himself up, wondering if his plan to clean the entire house spotless in the hour before Connor would get here was really a good idea. Cole grabs his cheeks and pulls him down to his level, which isn’t much different anymore.

“Dad,” he says, squishing Hank’s cheeks between his fingers, “You’re not even dressed. Go get dressed, shower. He already likes you, the house is fine. Stop overthinking.”

Hank blows out a deep breath in the form of a raspberry, “Man, kid… You’re like a saint, or something. You know that?”

“Learned from the best.” Cole grins as he herds him towards the hallway. “Smell nice for him. That’s your thing with him, right?”

He makes a nondescript noise on his way down the hall, waving his hand as if it completes what he’s trying to say. Cole seems to get it. Hank gets into the shower and polishes himself into a sweet-smelling man, almond and rose and spice. He takes care to cleanse his beard and wash his face, knowing Connor will notice he primed his face for any kiss that may want to be taken. He’s optimistic. And he knows Connor’s instructions now by heart - he takes the time to moisturize while he’s still warm and damp. It feels so cold when he emerges from the bathroom and scurries into his room.

He stops in the middle of toweling off his hair when he realizes there are clothes laid out on the bed for him. A pair of his nicer jeans and one of his insulated henleys. And his pizza socks. He chuckles softly and scoops them up, “Aw, kid…”

If Cole wants him to wear this outfit, he absolutely will. He trusts he’ll look nice, and it saves him the time and turmoil of trying on different things himself, wondering if he looks nice enough. As it is, he’s just gotten himself into the whole bottom half of his outfit and is fiddling with his hair when the doorbell buzzes. He almost trips over himself to grab his shirt and get out there.

The door swings open and Connor looks at the young man standing in the doorway; honey blond hair with blue tips, nail polish, earbuds hanging around his neck. He’s tall and the resemblance of bright blue eyes is unmistakable. Connor smiles in delight even if he’s a little nervous, cradling the gift he’s brought closer to his chest, “Cole Anderson. My name is Connor. I’m—”

“You are _ so _ his type.” Cole grins, shaking his head. Sumo wiggles between Cole’s feet and boofs at the return of his new friend, here of all places! Cole herds him aside so Connor can actually come in. “Get in here, you don’t gotta stand on the doorstep forever.”

“Nor would I want to.” Connor smiles, stepping in enough for Cole to shut the door. He takes in their home with excitement; he can read so much information from the use of the bookshelf to the tilt of the couch cushions. His internal timer tells him he’s been staring, so he looks back to Cole and holds out the plastic covered ball of dough in both of his hands. Cole takes it with a certain measure of polite confusion.

“It’s from Italy. Traditional pizza dough made from naturally sourced ingredients and—” he stops himself before he starts to ramble, “And, I know you like pizza. So do I. It was the first thing I ever ate.”

Cole looks a lot more excited with the explanation. Connor ticks it down as a success. “Oh man, I wish the first thing I ate was pizza.”

“What was it?” he asks as he pets Sumo, glancing down and giving him a smile.

“Mashed bananas.” Cole says, like it’s a great burden he has to carry.

Hank slicks his hair back with his fingers as he rounds the corner, heart hammering in his chest. “What are you talkin’ about bananas for, bud?”

“We’re talking about our first foods. Connor gave me a dough ball.” Cole says as he holds it up to Hank’s face. “Pretty cool of him…"

Cole takes the dough into the kitchen with a grin. Connor's face is so bright and pink while he looks at Hank, his hands still automatically rubbing and scratching Sumo. His voice is incredibly warm, "Hello, Hank."

“Hi, honey.” Hank feels himself melt as he moves to envelope Connor in a hug. Connor’s head tucks into the crook of Hank’s neck and lets the breath be squeezed out of him. Sumo tries to stay where he is between them but realizes he’s not going to be the focus, so he wiggles his way out.

“How do I look? Did I dress right? Do you think I made a good impression?” Connor whispers while they’re close, fingers twisting softly in the fabric of Hank’s shirt.

Hank chuckles softly, pressing a kiss to Connor’s temple over his LED. It flashes a little bit. “You look so pretty, Connor. So amazing. You’re doin’ great.”

“You think so?” Connor pulls back to look at him, eyes darting all around his face. They linger on his beard, his hands run along his shoulders.

“I do.” he promises, squeezing Connor’s side. “You really brought pizza dough?”

They slowly draw apart and Connor looks bashful as Hank leads him towards the living room by the hand. “900 thought I should. We have so much of it in the freezer from our trip, he said it’d be nice to share some of the experience.”

“It’s from your birthday— ah, anniversary, trip?” Hank feels a little tender with awe, that they’d share the stash from their special occasion.

Connor nods, eyes crinkling. “The chef wouldn’t give us the recipe, so we asked for the dough itself… I was thinking, maybe, if you wanted—”

“Baby.” Hank whispers into his hair, trying to be soothing as he sees Connor’s mind starting to race and run. Connor takes a breath, the tension releasing in his arms.

“We could make pizza. I’m coming into your home around meal times, I want to… provide.” Connor tells him, looking both parts excited and nervous.

“You wanna stay for dinner? That’s a blessing to me.” Hank wants to push any nerves away, to make sure Connor knows he’s perfectly fine. “And how about that list? You gotta give me your list.”

Connor lights up like Hank just hung the moon. “Yes!” he chirps loudly, then quiets himself. But looks no less excited. “I can give it to you, it’s been in my front processor for days. Would you like that or to go grocery shopping first?”

Hank glances over to where Cole has opened the dough and is currently giving it a sniff. He moves to get his shoes on, “Yeah, probably shopping first. He might eat the dough raw otherwise.”

“Delicious.” Connor says, taking down Hank’s jacket for him. He holds it open and smiles, and Hank slips into it with his help.

He grabs his wallet and keys from the side table, and urning back to Cole and Sumo, he opens the front door to let Connor out first, “Be good, you two! Love you!”

“Bye, love you!” Cole calls back.

Connor waves, “It was nice meeting you, Cole. We’ll be back soon.” He follows Hank’s lead towards the old car in the driveway, “Do you think he liked me, Hank?”

“I think so. But I’ll wait for his text to let you know.” Hank promises, opening the passenger side for Connor. He goes around and slides himself into the front seat too, watching Connor look around.

“His text?” Connor asks, reaching to touch the hula man Cole had gotten Hank when his mom took him to Hawiaii.

“He usually sends me a text to let me in on his comfort level. With new things, new people.” Hank starts up the car with a rumble that makes Connor’s face pinch curiously, then grabs for his seatbelt. “Buckle up, honey.”

“Oh.” Connor watches Hank and then twists to find his own belt, “Our car doesn’t have seatbelts.”

“It’s one of those auto ones, isn’t it?” Hank reaches over to help him click it into place. At Connor’s nod, he sighs. “All vehicles should have belts. They save lives.”

He spares a glance to the back seat, with its back passenger door in a different color. He can still picture Cole’s booster seat. That’s all that’s left of the accident, along with a scar at Cole’s brow and the pain in Hank’s left knee. He backs out of the driveway and turns up the heat, noticing Connor rubbing his knuckles together.

“So, if I understand,” Connor says, giving a little smile as he puts his hands against one vent, “Cole is going to announce his approval or disapproval of me soon?”

“Mhmm.” Hank nods, looking before they turn a corner. “I like his opinions.”

“I hope it’s good. I’d like to keep seeing you.” Connor says, with his voice teetering on the edge of something. Hank glances over at him. It doesn’t settle right in Hank’s head, makes him glance over again.

“Connor," he starts slowly, "do you think I’ll just stop talking to you if he doesn’t give you a five-star rating?”

“Of course.”

Hank’s heart pulls jarringly in his chest. That’s why Connor’s been asking so much, why he’s been so nervous. He reaches across the seat with an outstretched hand, “Woah, woah… That’s not gonna happen. Even if Cole doesn’t one hundred percent approve upon meeting you, that doesn’t mean _ I _don’t like you, and that I’ll up and leave.”

Connor takes his hand in both of his own. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. But you’re right to think that if it keeps happening, if Cole really doesn’t like or feel safe around someone I want to see, he’s my son and I choose him first.” he gives Connor’s hand a squeeze, “You also gotta remember… Cole sent off the first text when I was too chicken.”

A soft, bittersweet smile that spreads over Connor’s lips. “I don’t know why. You were so beautiful and I loved listening to your stories. So out of my league. But I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Hank throws a wild glance over at Connor, and thankfully he stops at a red light. “I’m sorry, hang on?” he stares at Connor in disbelief, “I’m out of your league? Connor? You… you’re kind, gentle with animals. You’re resourceful and adore having fun in a way that’s— it’s so fucking wholesome.”

He feels his hand get squeezed. Connor is looking at him with round tender eyes and he pushes on, not able to stop himself once he’s going. Connor deserves to hear it, especially when he looks and sounds so vulnerable. “You love 900 with every ounce of your heart, you went across town to get me lunch because you knew it’s my favorite, and you look like a model or some kind of magical creature. Connor, how can you not think you’re incredible?”

Connor stares at him, his lips parted in awe and his LED skipping yellow. “Hank… I told you I was a mermaid on the weekends.”

He huffs and shakes his head, “Connor—”

“I’m processing. Please.”

Hank holds back a sigh at the explanation. He was afraid Connor would gloss over everything else he said, but he has to remember Connor’s tendency to be thorough. The light turns green and Hank has to put his eyes on the road again, but he almost feels Connor’s LED running the entire time. He squeezes Hank’s hand a few times, and Hank squeezes back for each one.

They arrive at the grocery store in silence and Hank finds them a reasonably good spot to park in. Once his seat belt is off, Connor is dragging him across the seat and into a heated, desperate kiss. Hand curled in his lapel, Connor makes him feel lightheaded as he struggles to keep up, moving with Connor’s want. When he starts to fumble with his seat belt, Hank reaches down to help him, his breath coming out a heavy rumble.

Both of Connor’s hands go to his face, petting back his hair, muffling an eager noise as he dips his tongue in again. Hank returns the sound with a soft moan and Connor seems to melt at that. Desperation simmers into something warm and lovely, movements slowing gradually to a stop. Hank gently brushes their lips, opening his eyes to see up close the freckles on the ridge of Connor’s nose. “Hey.”

“I thought similar things about you.” Connor whispers, his eyes still fluttered shut. “A kind and soft heart in a big, strong body. The way you think of others and the clear intent to learn to show it to yourself. The level at which you love your son and want to be a part of his life.”

Hank opens his mouth but he doesn’t even know what he’d start to say. Connor’s nails gently scratch at his beard, words tumbling out of him. “Your friends, your job, the conversation you make… You were even sweet to 900 and you came to take care of me. And you looked so gorgeous it was all I could think about when I laid eyes on you in my hallway, so much that it just blurted out of my mouth.”

“Oh, Connor…” he whispers, wrapping his arm around him. He’s strewn across the seat as it is, it’s easy to draw his leg up to hug Connor close.

“I’ll give you a moment to process now.” Connor says, so considerate, and looks over Hank’s face before tucking his head towards the offered shoulder.

Hank draws in a deep breath, licking slowly over his lips. He spares a look out the windows to make sure they weren’t being watched. He had no idea Connor thought so highly of him, and some of the things Connor reasoned were incredible enough to be mentioned - like being nice to 900, in Hank’s mind it’s just something you do. He leans to kiss Connor’s ear. In his pocket, his phone buzzes.

> — Today, 5:32pm 
> 
> Dad, I think I like Connor. He’s nice to you and he really made Sumo’s day, I’m being enticed on another walk. Let’s see how he makes pizza.

“Connor.” he hums, reading over the text again before turning it for his companion to see.

Connor stares at the screen for a long moment before putting his hands over his face, giving a little huff, “Hank, I’m going to cry.”

“Oh, baby.” he hugs Connor with both arms now, squeezing him. “That’s alright. You’re so damn sweet.”

For a few moments, Connor takes deep breaths to get ahold of himself and Hank lets him take his time, seeing a few tears that he brushes away before they get out of the car. Hank offers his hand out and it’s immediately enveloped by both of Connor’s. He leans to press a kiss to his cheek as they walk towards the entrance, but something stops him before they hit the crosswalk.

“Wait.” he says, his arm pulling slightly as Connor slows a step in front of him. “You were serious about the fuckin’ mermaid thing?”

Connor snorts in surprise, obviously taken aback by Hank’s reaction. He smiles and squints in the late afternoon sun. “Yes. Midsummer, I’m a certified volunteer for the aquarium’s mermaid exhibit.”

Hank tips his head back in full awe, “Oh my god.”

Connor pulls him forward again, pressing a kiss to his knuckles with a delighted smile.

They pick up the ingredients Connor says are the best, a mix of weird gourmet and some of the stuff Hank normally gets. He’s very about asking Hank’s opinion, making sure they’ve got whatever he wants, wondering if Hank would like his favorite soda.

“You trying to butter me up for something, Connor?” Hank asks as they walk hand in hand through the store, the little basket hanging on Connor’s arm. He can’t believe walking into a soap store and accepting some gentle help got him here, a handsome man holding onto him with a satisfying air of domesticity. It feels good.

“I’m always trying to butter you up, Hank.” Connor smiles and winks at him.

They finish their shopping with Hank a healthy shade of pink and Connor very determined to make the Andersons a beautiful pizza experience. Connor interfaces with the machine before Hank can finish getting his card out of his wallet, and they trade besotted huffs and sweet smiles. He takes Connor’s hand again and feels just the tips of his fingers in bare chassis before the skin slips back over, and it’s everything to see the sparkly-eyed look Connor gives.

He drives them back home and Connor is almost vibrating with excitement while holding the two reusable bags they bought at the register. Hank opens the door for Connor to go first, and he sees Connor brace for Sumo running at him as he steps over the mat, but the dog doesn’t appear. Hank tosses his keys on the table and kicks the door closed behind them, “Cole! Sumo!”

When no response comes, Connor looks worried. “They’re not here?”

“Guess not.” Hank shrugs out of his coat and shoes, then dips to take the bags from Connor so he can do the same. The lines on Connor’s forehead don’t smooth, so he feels the need to assure him, “Cole goes out all the time, don’t worry. He must be walking Sumo.”

Connor nods slowly, moving to put his shoes in a neat line. “Okay, good.”

Hank brings the bags into the kitchen and finds the dough in the fridge on their most sacred holiday plate. Just the plop of expensive specialty dough on a holly painted plate in the middle of the fridge amuses Hank something fierce. He snorts and takes it out, leaving it on the counter.

“I’m so excited to make you this meal.” Connor tells him, moving around Hank to wash his hands. He skims low on Hank's back while he passes by.

“Is that so?” Hank manages while he takes the groceries from the bags. He lays them all out on the table for Connor’s easy access and watches him turn on the stove.

“Yes. I like cooking… imprecise measurements are so exciting.” he smiles slyly, like it’s his guilty pleasure to add a pinch more than specified. Hank tries to stamp down a grin. He reaches towards the cupboards, “May I?”

“Make yourself at home, sweet thing.” Hank gestures around the house and then offers himself up, “Anything I can do?”

“Yes!” Connor says, grabbing the herbs and looking through two drawers before he finds the knives. “Wash your hands. Tend to the onion… Kiss me.”

Hank grins and follows his instructions to the letter. Washes his hands, gathers the onion and a knife, and then sidles up next to Connor and dips down to capture his mouth in a gentle kiss. Connor lifts up on his tiptoes and lingers, much to Hank’s delight. But he’s the one to pull away, giving Connor’s nose a little kiss too, “You’re damn sweet.”

"Ah, my vanilla cream saliva update has started working." Connor hums, turning back to his herbs. Hank makes a very scrunched face.

"That's a thing?"

"No, Hank. It isn't." he levels Hank with a smirk and Hank shakes his head with an amused huff.

"I'm an old man, you can't play with me like that." he jokes, bumping Connor's hip with his own.

"You're 60 years old. With human life expectancy as it is, you're middle aged." Connor shoots back.

Hank manages to look offended, "_Middle aged_. Tell that to my spine."

Connor finds the olive oil and spices in the cupboard, then dips around Hank to get to the dough. As he passes by, he presses a kiss to Hank's back over his shirt. "Middle aged."

Hank feels himself melting into a puddle. _ Damn sweet_.

Not long after they really get set up, Cole and Sumo come back home, bustling through the entryway. Connor's gotten the dough spread on a baking sheet and most of the toppings taken care of. Sumo wants to smell Hank's hands, covered in juices from the peppers and sausage be diced. When he’s satisfied he goes to nuzzle Connor. Hank drops a kiss to Cole’s temple as he shuffles closer to see what they’re doing, “Hey, kid. About ready to start construction. Wanna get in on this?”

“Hell yeah.” Cole grins, quietly excited to be asked. He washes his hands and weaves around everyone else in the kitchen, ultimately ending up between Hank and Connor with Sumo between his knees, just waiting for the opportunity where a slice of pepperoni is lost to the floor.

They follow Connor’s lead, letting him delegate the jobs. Connor takes care of seasoning, Cole spreads the sauce with a little hum that it smells good, Hank gets cheese and tries to be as culinary adept as he can with his technique. They all get a hand in on the toppings and fight for prime pizza real estate. Connor adds the garlic cheese crumble he’s thrown together and Hank lays a light drizzle over the pie with olive oil, then it’s into the oven.

Before Cole leaves the kitchen, Connor pulls him aside. “Cole? Could I ask you for a favor?”

“What’s up?” Cole asks, wiping his damp hands on his pants for lack of a dish towel after washing his hands.

Connor retrieves the lone banana he bought at the store. He’s never eaten one before, or seen anyone else do it, so he hopes this is a good one. “I was wondering if you’d make me your first meal. I’m hoping this is enough, I’ve only ever seen babies eat small amounts.”

Cole’s smile grows in understanding. “Sure, I can do that. You know what? I can do you one better, I can give you the experience of seeing it prepared before your eyes.”

“I would like that very much.” Connor brightens considerably at the kindness.

Cole nods and ducks into the living room to find something to play on their console. Hank does up the dishes while the pizza cooks, and looks over his shoulder to sneak a peek at Connor. He looks so cozy, wearing rolled up jeans and a white knit sweater. His socks are plush and have sheep on them. He meets Hank’s eyes and gives a small smile, coming over to gently nudge his shoulder. “You’re watching me.”

“Hard not to.” he says, scrubbing at the cutting board with the kitchen sponge. There’s a thought humming through his head, with Connor so close— one piece of domesticity, his longing echoing in full force. _ Please, I’m right here. Please, put your arms around me. _

“Thank you.” Connor’s chin brushes his shoulder, then settles there when Hank leans into it. He looks over what he can see of Hank’s face, wishing he could nose against the softness of Hank’s beard. “You remember I like being looked at.”

“I do.” Hank replies quietly, enjoying the closeness. He wants to lead Connor’s hand around his waist.

“Mm. Thoughtful.” he shifts, gaze down to watch Hank’s hands as he cleans up. The urge to ask if he can help bubbles up, but he presses it down because Hank looks content as is. He takes a moment to reflect on how he can settle in silence with Hank, not unlike with 900. It soothes him in some way, to think extended time physically present with Hank bodes well. He hums, feeling cozy in his circuits. “I like what you’ve done with your nails.”

Hank rinses the suds off one of his hands to better see the pastel blue painted over his nails. He smiles and gives a bashful huff, starting to tend to the silverware. “Thanks. Cole does it for me every once in a while. He somehow makes it last forever, even with my job.”

“That’s very nice of him. I wish I could paint my nails, or dye my hair. Have a tattoo appointment.” Connor sighs like he’s reminiscing over things he can’t have. “Oh! I’ve always wanted a piercing.”

“Can’t you? They’re good ways to express yourself.”

Connor frowns, “No. Not in a manual, physical way. I couldn’t go through the experience. The liquid my skin and hair is made of just… wouldn’t react to things like that.”

Hank feels a twinge bad that he didn’t fully think that through. “Oh.”

“I watch videos of people doing it instead. Or, once, my friend took me along with her to the hair salon. I got to see them turn her hair from brown to blonde to blue. It was exciting.”

He wonders if the question he wants to ask would be considered offensive. He debates it for a good minute before opening his mouth. “That sounds exciting, for sure… Con? Can I ask something?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t know if this is rude or anything, so let me know.” he says, fiddling with a spoon. “Did you… change? From when you deviated, I mean. Like, Cherry, the receptionist at the station? They worked there before the Revolution too, and they went by a different name and pronouns, and they changed a lot. Their hair, some features, the way they dressed. Y’know?”

Connor smiles warmly, tilting his head until his cheek smushes against Hank’s shoulder. “I understand.” he thinks on it for a moment while his hand seeks out Hank’s side, to give him a small reassuring squeeze. “Hm… body hair. That’s what I gave myself, to change. Along with my stomach upgrade, and my genital attachments.”

Hank’s hand itches to take Connor’s hand. “Ah. I… I remember you were ticklish.”

“Yes, I hadn’t fully realized until you did that.” Connor laughs softly, giving a nod. “I haven’t changed much. Mostly in my clothes, I think. And when it gets cold, I adjust the settings on my flush so I look like I’m colder than I am. But mostly, I’m the same.”

“You got rid of your bellybutton.” Hank remembers, “or you didn’t have one to start.”

Connor snorts. “I got rid of it. I didn’t like it.”

Hank flushes as he feels Connor squeeze the softness of his side again. It makes him brave enough to wrap his fingers around Connor’s and bring him closer. “They’re overrated, it’s only leftover from keeping us alive in the womb.”

He shifts to follow Hank’s lead, slipping his arm around to settle his hand on Hank’s belly. “I like yours, though. And the little scar next to it. I always wonder about the story behind it.”

“Connor.” Hank smiles, smitten. He ducks his head, looking at the glass and sponge in his hands, then to Connor’s hand settled against him. “I’ll tell you the story, how about that?”

As if giving incentive, Connor’s other arm comes around him, his chest aligns with his back. “I would like that very much, Hank.”

“And what if…” he hesitates for a moment on how to explain, “You’ve always wanted the experience of changing yourself up. What if I took you to my tattoo parlor? She can’t ink you, but she makes the designs.”

“You would take me?” Connor whispers, in awe or disbelief Hank can’t tell.

“If you agree to go with me I’ll tell you the riveting, actioned-packed story of how I got that scar.” he nods, hoping he’s on the right track.

He realizes he’s doing just fine when Connor squeezes him tighter, nuzzling his face against the nape of his neck. “Hank, I would love to. You have no idea how much. That makes me so happy.”

“Then it’s a date?” he asks, just to get the response of Connor shaking him while he stims in excitement. He barks out a laugh and sets the glass back down in the sink before he drops it. He feels Connor’s head press between his shoulder blades and he smiles, laying his wet hands over Connor’s. “That sounds like a yes to me!”

“Oh! Yes.” Connor says, letting go of him. Hank turns around and he presses close to hug him, standing on his tiptoes. “Yes, thank you.”

Hank holds him around the waist and feels giddy when Connor settles their foreheads together. His eyes fall to Connor’s mouth, that wonderful smile. He brings one hand up to cup his cheek, thumb settling over that freckle it always does, and leans in to press their lips together. Connor hums and melts against Hank’s chest, so responsive and making sparks light up Hank’s brain. He leans back against the counter and Connor leans against him, and it feels like the best thing in the world, kissing under the shitty lights in his kitchen with the smell of dinner close by.

Cole weaves around them, snagging the lobster claw oven mitt from the counter next to them to get into the oven. “Excuse me. Don’t mind me. Just, continue making out in my way. I’ll save dinner.”

Connor sputters and pulls back, looking red and wildly embarrassed. Hank hides his face in one hand while he laughs, feeling heat over the back of his neck. He moves towards the oven to check on the pizza, patting Connor’s chest reassuringly, “Kid, I’m living my best life.”

“Oh, I can see that.” Cole snorts, taking the molten pizza from the oven. It looks incredible, all melted cheese and pepperoni crisping up on the edges. They all gather around to look at it with appreciation.

Then Hank ducks away to throw some broccoli into the microwave and get the fruit together, “Be nice to me, stop dragging me.”

Cole laughs and takes the half moon pizza cutter down from the wall shelf, handing it off to Connor. He thinks he’ll be most precise, and he’s right. “I’ll drag you until it snows.”

“So, not long!” Hank says, half mourning his back for all the snow he’ll have to shovel. Connor looks at Hank over his shoulder while he cuts perfect slices of pizza. He wrinkles his nose and tilts his head, and Hank comes over to obnoxiously land a smooch to Connor’s cheek. “It’s my millennial flare for drama, you can join in if you want.”

“The thought completely obliterates me.” Connor says, glancing up for approval.

“There you go!” Hank squeezes his shoulders with a grin.

All the food gets settled on the table. Hank gets them all water and offers Connor a packet of Thirium he’s taken to keeping in the fridge. Connor gives him such a wonderful smile. He and Connor settle in next to each other and Cole settles plates at each chair. Then Cole picks up a fork and that one banana, and ceremoniously stands beside Connor.

“Here we go.” he smiles, peeling the banana. Connor looks up at him with excitement. “Watch closely, now.”

“I’ll remember every moment.” Connor nods, watching as Cole settles the banana on his plate.

“Very intricate preparation for this important meal, it takes all the culinary skill I possess.” Cole says, and doing everything he can not to crack a smile, simply smushes the tongs of the fork into the banana until it’s a yellow mash on Connor’s plate. Then he nods, job done. “And there it is.”

Connor stares at his plate for a long moment, then looks up at Cole like he’s done him a great service. “Thank you, Cole. I’m very excited to have this.”

Cole, for a second, thinks he’s joking. But Connor is so earnest that he just pats his shoulder and gives his father a bemused smile as he sits down. They fill their plates and Connor tries his mashed banana with a delighted hum, telling them quietly that he loves it. They delve into their pizza and it’s a symphony of praise and excitement.

Dinner goes smoothly, to Hank’s incredible relief. Cole talks about his hobbies, his friends (Milo, mostly) and what school is like, since Connor’s never been. Connor talks about his job, all his nice smells and textures he gets to work with. He also gushes about 900, mentions how they’re visually similar, and Cole says that he's never seen anyone like Connor before. Connor explains he’s a prototype, and 900 is his successor that never had more than one first edition made before the Revolution. Hank comments that it makes Connor special and the most advanced series of android alive.

“Very efficient.” he grins, and for some reason Connor flushes and ducks his head bashfully, fingers stimming under the table.

Cole leads the conversation onto food, mostly foods Connor hasn’t had, and that goes into Connor’s hobbies. His crochet club, his knitting club, the posing and painting he does with his friend Markus. The things he does with 900— evidently they really enjoy laundry day, because they try a new detergent or similar item almost every time. He mentions if they ever need any, to please let him know… they have too many.

“We also read, although I’m told I read much faster than humans. So, book club was out.” Connor smiles, shrugging. “But I found that we do well with video games, and—”

“You like video games?” Cole asks, food stuffed into his cheek in haste to speak.

“Cole, chew.” Hank shakes his head fondly, collecting bits of dropped pizza toppings off his plate with his fork. “You did mentioned you did stuff in VR? Is it like…?” He taps his temple and makes a motion over his eyes.

Connor smiles, “Yes, I can see it without a headset. I can also lock my limbs in real life so I can move in-game… so I don’t need all the funny looking equipment.”

“Hey! When I put my gloves and little booties on, I’m the coolest thing ever.” Hank defends half heartedly. He’s aware how silly he looks getting into all the pieces of the VR ensemble.

“Oh, Hank. Of course you are.” Connor replies, trying very hard not to grin.

Cole chuckles, “He’s goofy, for sure. We gotta play something! I have a bunch of controllers.”

“I’d like that very much.” Connor says, then looks to Hank. “If your father allows it. I’ve been told it’s a school night.”

“Pops.” Cole looks at Hank too, his best pleading eyes and hopeful face. Connor glances back and then sees fit to lock Hank with a similar look.

“Ah, jesus. Now I’m outnumbered. What did I do?” He runs his fingers through his hair and heaves a big, put-upon sigh. Then he smiles. “Yeah, I guess that’d be okay.”

“Yes!” Cole is already getting out of his seat, shoving the last of the broccoli into his mouth before rushing through taking care of his plate. Hank snorts but doesn’t comment.

Connor looks to Hank and reaches across the table for him, finding his hand. He smiles, tilting his head softly. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Hank props his head up with his free hand, rubbing over Connor’s knuckles.

“For inviting me into your home.” he says, and Hank can tell it’s incredibly sincere.

“I’m happy you’re here, Con.” Hank tells him, just to make sure he knows. He slowly grins, “Hey, how about we get that list printed off? I still wanna see it.”

Connor brightens, starting to gather up his plate. “That would make me even happier, Hank.”

Hank cleans the kitchen and puts away everything from dinner, while Connor scurries around trying to help before Hank can catch him. Cole has set up a game when they walk in, and with the controllers synced he drapes himself over the chair - pointedly leaving the couch open for them. Hank steers Connor towards the desk, swiping the sticky note off the screen of his laptop. “Hey, I almost forgot. Here’s the wifi name and password, so you can connect any way you want here.”

Connor takes the note with a smitten smile, “That’s very considerate, Hank. I don’t think most people would think of that.”

“Just want you comfortable.” he replies, a little flustered.

With that special grin, Connor reaches for the interface of the printer and connects. It stutters to life and prints on a piece of pastel pink paper from the last time Hank used the damn thing for school fliers. In Cyberlife Sans, is a very long and numbered list of date ideas. There’s even some with added details— one or two notably with a paragraph of thoughts. Hank pulls it warm from the printer, “Oh wow, honey.”

“Is it too much?” Connor asks, peeking over the top of the page.

“Not at all. I’m excited to sit down and read ‘em all.” He steps around to grab his reading glasses off the desk and Connor happily follows him to the couch.

“Right now?”

“Mhmm.” he sighs when he sits, sinking back into the cushions. Looking to Cole, he smiles. “I've got some reading to do while two play your game.”

“Suit yourself, Pop.” Cole leans to slide the controller along the coffee table towards Connor.

Connor settles in gently and picks up the controller, skin sliding back to interface with it, “Ah, I like combat games. I have excellent precision.” he remembers to lean back instead of sitting straight up, “I’m great at darts.”

“Is that on the list?” Hank asks, sliding his glasses on. Connor looks at him, LED blinking an alert blue. He waves him off, grabbing a pen from the table, “I got it, here. Don’t worry.”

Those soft brown eyes watch him pen it in, and then both Connor and Cole have their full attention on the game. Hank watches for a moment as it starts up, sees their two perspectives and the way Connor aims and positions himself strategically. He wonders how easy video games are for Connor when he runs on far superior computers.

He skims over the list before dedicating to read it one to forty-seven.

  1. Dinner. Chicken Feed, Italian, Indian?
  2. Bath— sweet smells, savory smells, oils/shea butter
  3. Braiding your hair, it was a serious request
  4. Taking photos; can be sensual, Hank.
  5. Dancing— if only to your personal records, for now.
  6. Movie theatre, or musical venue
  7. Walking Sumo; any time, evenings would be romantic

Hank finds himself smiling, loving all the added bits to the list. Especially the assurances that more intimacy is welcome and wanted— _ things can be sensual, Hank_. He likes that some of them are in public and some in private. There’s a lot of options and things that can fit in with the pattern of their lives.

  1. Painting— if you’d like to model, or I can model for you. Or we can simply paint anything side by side
  2. Knitting or crochet
  3. Baking bread

He loves the thought of easy intimacy. Artsy things, and hands-on things. He knows absolute shit about knitting or bread other than he likes the result of them both, but he did have an artist phase when he was younger. He can’t paint anything detailed like a person, but maybe he could make Sumo, or at least a sunset or something.

  1. Guided couples meditation— I’ve read about this being a centering, warm, and intimate experience. Sitting close to one another, touching gently… You would be looking at me a great deal.
  2. VR gaming— I can put an avatar of myself into the interface, we could have a lot of fun!
  3. Massage. I’ve noticed your knee bothers you.

Hank reaches over to Connor’s hand resting against his thigh, blanketing it with his own. It feels nice and Connor is responsive, fingers twitching and a small smile forming on his lips. He doesn’t look away from the television, but his pinky comes up to hook against Hank’s fingers. Hank feels his body flood with a kind of content warmth, the ease of tonight really lulling him in such a nice way. He runs his fingertips along Connor’s while he reads the rest of the list at his leisure, getting lost in the way some spark thoughts and ideas of his own, how they blossom into daydreams. He wonders about the way Connor sleeps when he’s not sick and the way he would look painting or posing or cocky throwing a perfect game of darts.

Gently as anything, the skin on Connor’s two first fingers melts back where Hank’s rubbing against them. Hank slows the touch as he realizes, shifting his eyes to look, then he draws his fingerprints along the glowing ridge where Connor’s bare chassis meets the skin, and sees him shiver. He lets himself trace along each finger and then continue stroking over the first knuckles. There’s a soft glow of blue that fades in under his touch. Connor sighs and relaxes back further into the couch cushions. Hank has to conclude that it’s a good sign.

He gently folds the list when he’s read them all and thought on so many. He’s willing to try any one of them, wanting the experience with Connor and even more wanting to see the way he enjoys it. Connor seeking enjoyment is exciting for Hank to see, he treats experiences with such love. As he looks over at him, he wishes he could pull him into a kiss. And he could, he absolutely could, that's the great part. But he doesn't want to interrupt. Seeing Connor's nose wrinkle, that little pleased smile and the subtle move of his wrist as he plays interfaced like that, is enough. Hank can wait, and he'll enjoy it.

Cole wiggles all around and makes noises of effort while he plays, giving little words of encouragement whether his team is doing well or not. He congratulates Connor on good moves and bounces excitedly in his seat when they win. Connor smiles brightly and expresses the same to congratulations to Cole. They play two more games, one lose and one win, and Cole gets them chocolate milk boxes after. Connor looks at Hank excitedly with the straw between his lips, and Hank realizes it’s another new experience for him.

He's so smitten at this point, he knows it must be radiating off of him noticeably now.

Cole hops up from his seat and grabs for his headphones on the coffee table, “Milo’s gonna call soon, we’re gonna play some co-op. It was nice to meet you, Connor. Don’t let him have coffee this late at night if he tries.”

Connor smiles and gives Cole a determined nod, “I won’t let him. It was nice to meet you, too.”

Hank wrinkles his nose and grins at them, shaking his head. “I’m never gonna get away with anything ever again.”

“I’d still indulge you in some things.” Connor promises him with a shrug and a smile.

He waits until the door of Cole’s bedroom clicks shut before playfully leaning closer to Connor, “Oh yeah? Like what, honeybee?”

Connor smiles brightly, his eyes crinkling. He leans into Hank’s outstretched arm and his fingers push into Hank’s beard, “Would you let me kiss you?”

“I was hoping you’d want to.” Hank admits, letting Connor’s fingertips skirt over his mouth. He presses a kiss to them and Connor looks at him with those pretty doe eyes, then leans in to connect their lips. It’s gentle and slow, letting his lips part under Connor’s and savoring the hand that comes to cradle the back of his head. He feels held, wanted, and the slip of Connor’s tongue against his has his stomach fluttering. He makes a soft, almost wounded noise and curls his fingers around Connor’s where they still lay on his thigh.

Connor gives a soft hum in reply and pulls back slowly, scratching at the buzzed part of Hank’s head. “Oh,” he whispers, brushing their lips as he speaks, “Does that feel good?”

“Yeah, honey.” he breathes, gently flicking his tongue over Connor’s cupid’s bow.

“Mm.” Connor kisses him again, just a light peck. “Would you like me to…” he presses another peck, Hank follows him for more, “—keep going?”

“Connor.” he grins, a low sound rumbling delightedly in his chest. Connor’s next kiss lingers, but he still pulls back all too quickly. “I do. Come here, I want you to.”

Connor laughs against his mouth and brings him back in, leading with a slow, passionate kiss. Hank feels himself tingle with goosebumps as Connor leans closer, sitting up enough to brush their chests. He brings his hands to Connor’s sides, encouraging him closer when they both start to get restless. Connor slides his arm around Hank’s shoulders, draping across him beautifully. “I miss the shape of you.”

“I’m all here, just for you.” he promises, pressing a kiss to the corner of Connor’s mouth. Connor sags against him.

“Just for me?” he whispers, looking up at Hank with soft eyes.

The tenderness rasps in Connor’s voice. It doesn’t entirely cover the unsure twinge there, and Hank tilts his head to kiss it away. He hums “_mhmm_” against Connor’s lips, drawing him closer while he sways eagerly into his orbit. Connor grips his shoulder and pulls himself up into a better position, tucking one leg under himself to scoot closer. Hank guides him up to sit on his thigh, melting back against the couch cushions as Connor blankets across his torso.

“There we go,” he says in a moment where they pause for breath, “I’m right here.”

Connor rests their foreheads together, arms heavy and warm around Hank. “I feel you.”

Hank tightens his arms around Connor wholly, such a tiny waist he can hold against him, and gently tips his head up to brush their noses, “I feel you, too.”

A hand comes to caress his face, and Hank hears the soft shlick as where Connor touches him becomes bare. Sleek knuckles draw along his cheek, and Connor’s eyes are so tender, illuminated by the glow of his own hand. Hank rubs circles into his lower back while he covers that hand with his own and brings it to his lips, kissing the padded light gray of Connor’s palm. Hank trails slow kisses along his hand, tucking more and more into his palm with a building reverence. He sighs, hoping his voice doesn’t tremble. “Oh, Hank…”

“I _ feel you_.” Hank whispers against his chassis, looking up at him.

Connor’s Thirium pump whirs audibly at Hank’s words. His breath stutters and he cradles Hank’s face between his hands, pressing their mouths together with a low moan. The equivalent of goosebumps flicker across Connor’s skin as Hank eagerly reciprocates, presses right back against him, squeezes his flank and circles his fingers around Connor’s wrist. Hank’s touch is so tender, those big hands hold him gently.

Hank gasps raggedly in between the slide of their lips, one moment feeling the texture of Connor’s skin and the next is slick, bare chassis. He knows this is incredibly significant, he knows the trust and want Connor is putting in him, is asking of him. When he sucks that lower lip between his own and gently bites down, Connor’s voice breaks with a soft mechanical chirp. He pulls back purely out of surprise, giddy and trying to get used to seeing part of Connor’s face bare too, “Baby, what was that?”

Connor’s cheeks are flushed a healthy, flustered pink. Across his mouth and chin are on display, and Hank wants to kiss the very tip of his nose where it’s chassis too. Connor tenses slightly, tumbling over his words for a brief moment, “Um, I sometimes… it happens when I’m excited. I’m sorry—”

“It’s so cute.” He murmurs, excited as he draws Connor back in for a smooch.

“Wh—” Connor leans into Hank’s lips again, this time on his chin, “Really?”

“Yeah, sweet like you.” He gives in and kisses Connor’s nose, letting his thumb trace the curve of that soft cupid’s bow.

Connor lets out a soft breath and gazes at Hank with something like relief. He presses a kiss to Hank's thumb, more gentle than it has any business to be. Hank feels as though he's being treated very tenderly, and not many people have done that with him over the years. Connor gently smoothes his mustache down for him. "I'm very happy to be here, Hank."

"Me too." he whispers back, following the skin as it covers Connor up again. He grasps Connor's chin and brings him close enough to kiss his cheek. Connor hums, tipping his head to brush their lips. He squeezes him closer to initiate a deeper kiss, but he hears Cole still in his room and pauses. "Ah, shit… You don't know how much I wanna keep going."

"I think I might know." Connor says, tucking some hair behind Hank's ear. "It's okay, I understand. It's dark out now anyway, I should be getting home."

"Do you want me to take you? Or call you a cab?" he asks, drawing his hand up and down Connor's back, wishing he didn't have to go.

"I already have one coming. I don't need you going out into the cold." Connor smiles, disentangling them before he gets up from Hank's lap.

"Too good to me." he pulls himself up from the couch too, stretching his leg so that problem knee pops satisfyingly. "Let me get your sweater, before I keep it from you again."

As he walks towards his bedroom, a soft amused snort follows him. "As if I minded."

"Cute and generous." Hank quips, taking the sweater from the chair in the corner of his room. He shakes it out and then folds it, turning around to see Connor looking over the space.

"So kind." he says distractedly. He's looking over the open closet, the bed, the shelves of knickknacks and paper books. "Your bedroom is very nice, Hank."

"You think so? Not too messy?"

"No. It feels warm." he smiles as he steps closer to the closet, looking at the products on the wardrobe, "You keep your lotion and oils here."

Hank moves a shirt that's hanging above the wardrobe, grabbing pieces of recycled paper. "And your instructions, right here."

Connor looks touched. His eyes are all lit up, he's caught somewhere between surprise and adoration. "Oh, Hank. You really kept them."

"Of course I did. Even if I know them now by heart… I keep 'em here." Hank shrugs, smiling softly. He sets them back down and pats them. "I'm sentimental."

He watches Hank settle the shirt back into place, silky and brightly patterned. He likes the way it draws his processor's attention, he thinks it might be soft. Hank glances at him, then chuckles bashfully. "Yeah, I know they're ugly. Does it do something to like, a delicate sensors? Maybe you can map it all out."

"No, I— Well, yes, I mean. It's interesting to look at. My processors enjoy the pattern.” he explains, “I like it.”

“You do?” Hank raises a brow and looks back to the shirt, then smiles to himself. He takes it off the hanger, gently smoothing it out. “Would you wanna… borrow it for a bit? Least I can do after keeping your sweater for so long.”

“Really?” He sounds more eager than he means to, but Hank just looks pleased. “I’d like that, Hank. It would feel good.”

Hank folds the shirt and settles it with Connor’s sweater. When he hands it over, Connor’s fingers rest over his, “Well, I want to make you feel as good as possible.”

“Do you?” He looks at Hank as he takes the clothes to his chest. They still touch, he draws his fingers over Hank’s. He tilts his head up and holds back a smile as Hank flushes.

“I really do.” Hank tells him, voice soft. He sways towards Connor, taking a steadying breath. “It’s something I want to give you, as much as I can.”

“I think you have a lot to share, Hank.” he leans up to barely brush their lips, whispering indulgently, “I know… I’ve seen you.”

“_Connor._” Hank breathes, touching their foreheads as they stand on the edge of another kiss. "The things you do to me…"

“The things you do to _ me_, Hank.” he whispers, bumping their noses. He shudders, parting his lips as he looks at Hank’s mouth.

Hank’s hand comes to rest on Connor’s chest, he can feel their breaths mingling hot against his lips. He aches to just kiss him, devour his mouth and lead them the few steps over to the bed. He can feel the tension of Connor holding himself still too, the satisfaction to the urge less than an inch away. Connor huffs and reaches up to cradle Hank’s head again, fingers scratching through the shave. He almost pulls Hank closer, where they both want to be, when he pauses suddenly. Hank knows why a moment later when there’s a honk outside. They share a sigh this time and with such reluctance, pull away from each other.

Connor looks upset to leave, but he gives one of those sweet smiles. Hank reaches out to push that stray curl back and watches it bounce into place again. “We’ll have to pick a date. Right, Con?”

Connor’s smile meets his eyes better, and his smile turns pleased and lopsided. “I’m excited already.”

“Me, too.” Hank promises, as they leave the bedroom. Hank holds the clothes for him while he gets his shoes on, and helps him into his coat. He kisses Connor’s forehead and lets him coo goodbye to Sumo before he actually goes. He watches after Connor until he’s in the cab, adoring the little wave Connor gives out the window as it drives off.

There’s already a text on his phone when he locks up the doors and deposits himself back onto the couch.

> #C: I’m partial to date #1 through 47, if you weren’t sure of my preference.

Hank grins to himself before reaching over for the list again, opening it up to choose something nice for the both of them.

> #H: I’ve taken an interest to 17 and 33… What do you think?

It takes a minute for Connor to reply, and when he does it’s two links. One, to a planetarium on the other side of town— 17. Gaze at the stars (I heard this was romantic from a conversation I overheard). The second is directions to a big park maybe fifteen minutes from Connor’s apartment— 33. A low impact walk by the water

> #H: Both, then?
> 
> #C: It would be fun! I can bring a big pillow or blanket to make sure you are comfortable if we want to stop and sit.
> 
> #H: Ah, Connor. You’re so damn sweet
> 
> #C: And for the planetarium… I could pick you up at work. Meet Jeffrey… perhaps he would be very happy to meet me, and would let you go a little early…
> 
> #H: Oh, a bribe to a police Captain huh?  
#H: Hell, I love that. Bring him flowers, he’ll melt in your hands
> 
> #C: It’s a date, then!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been so long!!! I had such trouble with this chapter, but it's finally here! My writing style has changed so much, editing this was *something* 😂 Thank you to everyone who's clicking on this after so long, and who left comments on the last chapter. Special love to DarkBlueBetty for the love they showed for this fic, that encouraged me to hammer this out 💕

Connor texts him a few days later with a photo. He’s at the mall, seemingly on his lunch break, his store apron is still on but hanging off his waist. It’s not from Connor’s eyes so he assumes it’s through 900’s. Connor’s eating a hot pretzel and he’s wearing Hank’s shirt. The damn thing hangs off of him, shoulder seams halfway down his biceps. He’s got buttons undone, showing off a respectable amount of collar, and the sleeves are rolled up meticulously to keep them from getting dirty.

> #C: I’m you!

Hank grins to himself, relaxing for a moment in his driver’s seat. He’s back from running errands during his own lunch break, and has an interview to conduct when he gets into the station, but he always has a moment for Connor.

> #H: Honey, you look so damn handsome
> 
> #C: Thank you! I’m with Markus today, he likes your shirt too.

Ah, so Connor’s artist friend Markus, not 900. Hank has heard a handful of things about Markus, and saw one photo of him on the wall at Connor’s place. Connor has one of his paintings in his bedroom. Hank thinks it was beautifully done.

> #H: Tell him thanks, for that and such a pretty picture.

Another minute passes and Hank receives another photo. It’s Connor again, but the camera is angled lower and Connor is posing elegantly. It seems like Markus was crouched on the floor to take it and Connor was trying very hard not to laugh.

> #H: Oh, so you’re a model now too!
> 
> #C: Hank!
> 
> #H: Artisan, mermaid, model… What can’t you do?
> 
> #C: I can’t do puzzles because I always know them as soon as I see a certain number of pieces.
> 
> #H: I didn’t expect a real issue but that’s okay, Con.
> 
> #C: I’d still try a puzzle with you.

To think Connor would still try something with him that he has trouble doing normally is kind of touching. Hank wonders if it’s the number of pieces that Connor has issues with, if he’s gotten puzzles with too few. He has to store the thought away for later, makes a note to future Hank as he gets out of his car.

> #H: Connor, I feel very flirted with. I like that.
> 
> #C: Good! I like that, too.

He smiles to himself as he heads up the station steps.

As Cole spells out the word ‘squat’ on the Scrabble board, on a double word score tile, for a whopping 28 points— Hank slumps against the ottoman on his right with a dramatically wounded noise, “How? How do you do this?! You always get the best words!”

“I learned this from you!” Cole bellows back, just as dramatic. Hank has a very deep moment of ‘like father like son’. He marks down the points and reaches across the coffee table for the bag of tiles to replenish his cache.

"And then you're _ nice_, giving a compliment that I taught you well." Hank groans, throwing an arm over his eyes like an actor who doesn't know subtlety.

"I learned that from you, too." Cole chuckles now, calmer as he tries to figure out his next move.

Hank smiles, his heart warming. "You're really a good kid, kid." Cole quirks a grin and opens his mouth, but Hank holds out a finger before he can speak, "No, don't say you learned that from me, too. If anything, you learned about old man arthritis before you were ten.

"I used to think 'Arthur' was your friend, not weird slang for arthritis." Cole says, rearranging some tiles, "'Oh, Old Uncle Arthur came to see me at work this afternoon! Oh hell, where's my tiger balm?'"

Hank snorts, leaning his elbows on the table as he looks over his letter tiles. "I didn't sound like that, did I?"

"You sounded like Arthur fucked you up in a fight club scenario every time you saw him."

"Felt like it." Hank chuckles, excited when he makes the word 'banker' from an outcropping letter in the word 'kitchen'. He gives himself his points and reaches over for his glass, taking a drink of water. Sumo comes over to sniff and see if it’s for him too, and Hank drops a kiss on his head. “Hey, did you still want to go to the movies tomorrow afternoon?”

Cole’s head comes up from staring intently at his tiles, “Oh. Uh, we were still doing that?”

“If you wanted to.” he shrugs, hearing Cole’s hesitance. Sumo flops over against him, jostling him as the weight hits him. He helps his big puppy squirm across his lap and digs his fingers into his furry belly. “Did you make plans?”

“Well…”

He smiles to himself, glancing to see Cole fidgeting with a tile. “Milo can come along… if you want. Popcorn on me.”

Cole brightens up, losing a little bit of his guilty slouch. “Really?”

“Of course, he’s a good kid.” he shrugs, causal even though he knows how much it means to Cole just by looking at him. “How ‘bout… unless it’s special days off or family plans we’ve made, just assume Milo’s invited.”

“Pop… does that mean he could spend the night tonight? So we can just go tomorrow?” Cole is just beaming now, sitting up straight and fiddling more excitedly with his hoodie zipper.

“I’m taking a bath later and the game’s gonna be on,” he says, “but that’s fine with me.”

Cole grins and twists to grab his phone off the couch, thumbs punching in a message as soon as he’s able. He throws an ‘S’ tile down on the game board to extend his former word before jumping up, “I can make dinner! I’m gonna see what we have!”

“Oh! Well, hey, works for me.” It even gives him more time to think up a new word from these awful tiles, and he gets out of dinner duty for the night. He looks down at Sumo and smiles, rubbing at his belly, “Looks like we have free time, honey-baby.”

Sumo rumbles and wiggles, his tail swiping back and forth happily. Hank pats his chest and takes the time to find a satisfying word to put on the board— but from Cole’s buzzing around the next room over, the game might be lost. Just as well, Cole has a fifty point lead on him.

He rubs Sumo’s belly and coos over him, enjoying a little time together. Tells the big baby about his day, asks about his, muses over what they’ll be doing tomorrow and the next day. He talks about the photos from Connor while he looks over the tiles, and grunts with realization when he constructs a good word. He doesn’t bother getting more tiles out and instead checks his phone. There’s a photo with Connor holding a new bee-themed product, bright yellow and shimmery, with the caption ‘_Honeybee!!! Includes real honey._’ Hank messages him back that he can’t wait to try it, Connor’s made it so beautiful.

To his surprise, Cole slides back across from him on the floor again. “Okay! I’m boiling water.”

“Ooh, hot water for dinner. The meal of kings.” Hank chuckles, and Cole snorts while shaking his head. “What are you gonna make us, kid?”

“I’m gonna make rice! To go with sweet and sour chicken.” Cole tells him, slapping down three tiles automatically to create an eleven point word on the board. “Hope you didn’t have plans for that chicken you defrosted yesterday.”

“I didn’t, so thank you for saving my life.” he smiles, feeling himself relax that Cole really has it under control, “You need anything extra for that dish?”

“Ah…” Cole leans against the couch to think, “We have the soybeans, peppers… I have all the stuff for the chicken. No, I think I’m good.”

“We might even have bread rolls in the freezer.” Hank adds, “Those multigrain ones you like.”

“_Yes_.” Cole rejoices quietly, shaking his fists with excitement. His phone must buzz because he sits back up and checks it, sends off a quick message, then turns his attention back to Hank. “Okay! Let’s do this, then I’ll get on the chicken.”

Hank is happy that they end up finishing their game. By the time Milo gets there, Cole is halfway through preparing the chicken. He races to clean off his hands and run to the door, telling Hank that he’ll get it. So Hank sits with his book and watches happily when Milo steps in and immediately envelopes Cole in his arms. He loves that Cole is so loved, and just waves when Cole drags Milo by the hand past the living room, right into the kitchen to tell him about dinner.

He pulls his blanket further up his chest and reads another four pages in his book before finding his phone in the creavas between him and the couch. He checks the news and then migrates towards his messages with Connor.

> #H: You have a good day at work, honey? Did you get home alright?
> 
> #C: I had a very good day! The Honeybee stuff made me very happy. I’m enjoying my time at home now.
> 
> #H: Yeah, the bee stuff! That’s exciting, you did a lot of good work today.
> 
> #C: Hank, you’re sweet! The bee formula is so creamy, they smell so good. The molds for them are all honeycombs and little bees, and some have flowers inside!
> 
> #H: Aw, that’s fantastic. They must be so nice to handle.
> 
> #C: Would you like to see?
> 
> #H: Share away.

It takes Connor a minute or so to get back to him, and when he does, he sends a photo. Hank immediately puts his phone to his chest and looks around to make sure the kids are still in the kitchen. They’re preoccupied with each other and Sumo, trying to make dinner.

The photo is of Connor in the tub at home, with golden water and stacked with bubbles. There’s shimmer, and on Connor’s stomach there are a few yellow flower petals. It’s a beautiful photo, and Hank’s heart pounds looking it over; all of Connor’s sweet freckles, wet skin and the hint of— god, Connor really made sure Hank could see his cock in the glittering, bubbly water. He has to ask.

> #H: You know every angle and thing you share when you take photos of yourself, don’t you?
> 
> #C: That’s right, Hank.

_ Fuck_.

> #H: Right.
> 
> #C: It’s very nice, Hank.
> 
> #H: It’s a little better than nice, Con. Fuck, you look gorgeous. I wish I could be there to look at you all you want.
> 
> #C: I love that you want to look at me. I love that you remember.
> 
> #H: I’d do whatever you want, you’re so handsome. You know that, don’t you?
> 
> #C: Of course I do.

Hank flushes.

> #H: Good boy.
> 
> #C: Oh!  
#C: Hank… that’s a very nice thing to say.
> 
> #H: Yeah, honey?
> 
> #C: Sensational. It sounds so nice in your voice.  
#C: I have software that can mimic voices. Is that okay?

Hank thinks that’s more than okay, if it’s making Connor feel as good as implied. He only wishes he was there to say it himself and see the reaction it has.

> #H: Yeah, honey. I wish I could be telling you myself, but you’ve got a wonderful imagination… Let me know what I say. Enjoy.
> 
> #C: Thank you, Hank. You are so nice to me.
> 
> #H: I like you, Connor.
> 
> #C: A lot?
> 
> #H: A lot.
> 
> #C: Me too.

Hank takes a moment for a few deep breaths and adjusts his blanket. He tries to get back to his book but it’s difficult when his mind is wandering, thinking of Connor in blissfully hot water, everything silky against his perfect skin. He runs his fingers through his hair and huffs quietly, burrowing in to really try to focus on the book. He makes it the next ten, maybe fifteen minutes of glaring at the same page and same two paragraphs before Cole comes to save him.

He presses a bowl of sweet and sour chicken under Hank’s nose, fogging up his glasses. “Here we go, Pops. Can we take the TV?”

Thankfully throwing his book away, he takes the hot bowl and sighs at the smell of sauced chicken and fluffy rice. “Hey, yeah. Thank you. Sure, go ahead, bud.”

Milo settles into the living room chair and Cole sits on the floor against his legs. They flip on the television and find a movie to stream. Sumo is sniffing around at Cole’s plate and Hank gives a small ‘hey’ to warn him off. Sumo comes over to nuzzle up against him and then jump on the couch to lay on him. He eats slowly while he observes the movie without really taking it in; thinking about what he’s going to be doing later, thinking about Connor, wishing their date was sooner.

When dinner is done, Hank leaves the couch to put his bowl in the sink for later. He sees the kids don’t need him around for anything, so he grabs himself a drink and heads for the bathroom. He combs over his little table of bath products, picking out a few before starting the water. While it fills, he checks the length of his beard in the mirror, debating whether he should trim it or not. He decides to take his razor and hand mirror, leaving them on the table with his bottle of pineapple soda. When he climbs in, the heat of the water bites at his bare skin, and he breaks up some of a bar under the faucet for bubbles and silk.

He drops in half a bath bomb in the water, too - it turns everything a milky white, almost pastel blue as it mixes with the bubbles, and smells distantly sweet. As he relaxes back, he draws his hands along his body, scratching his fingers through the hair. It always feels so good to experience the hair on his body go soft when all the good stuff washes over him. He draws the water over his chest and shoulders, making sure they get some love too before he sinks lower.

But soon he finds his hands drifting down, dragging over his thighs, feeling a little bit of that leftover tension from Connor’s photo and conversation. He slides his palm over his cock, still soft but he feels the tingle in his hips. He gives himself a slow stroke, the water is heavenly like this. He sighs and shuts his eyes, feeling over himself and not trying for anything, just basking in the low hum of pleasure it provides. He thinks about Connor twisting around in the tub, touching him again, leading Hank’s hands over his body in return. He has conflicting thoughts over cupping Connor’s blank plate or cupping his cock in his hand, wondering what makes him feel the best. Part of him wishes he took Connor up on the offer to touch him _ everywhere_. He thinks about it for another long moment before letting it go, satisfied for now.

He lounges, moving gently in the water when it feels nice to, breathing in the little bit of steam and bright scents happily. He can hear the boys in the other room laugh at something in the movie, and Sumo woof to join in. It makes him even more content as he lays there. When he wants to ward off getting relaxed enough to fall asleep, he dries off his hands and grabs for his phone. There’s a text from Connor waiting, a photo of him bundled in a sweater on that ugly couch, looking down at what seems to be a little pot pie being put on a pillow by completely chassis-bare hands, with the caption '_New dinner, Hank! I’m having a new dinner! '_

> #H: Exciting! What is it, Con?
> 
> #C: 900 made turkey pie! His coworkers were talking about turkey and he got excited. He says he likes gravy.
> 
> #H: Gravy is good! He’s got good taste buds.
> 
> #C: They’re very advanced, yes. I’ll tell him you said so!

Hank laughs softly to himself as he sinks down lower into the water again. He always loves how excited Connor sounds, how much he wants to share compliments and love.

> #H: You tell him, honey. He deserves some love, too.
> 
> #C: He says thank you. He’s very bashful about it.

He imagines 900’s bashful is as stone faced as his resting expression.

> #C: Hank! I like turkey pie!  
#C: I wish you were here to try this.
> 
> #H: I’m sure it’s delicious, Connor. It’s great that you’re finding new things you like, so proud of you. And 900, for making it.
> 
> #C: Hank! Thank you.  
#C: What are you up to? Tell me. Are you making dinner now?
> 
> #H: Cole made dinner, actually. Milo’s over, so they’re spending time together. I’m sinking into the tub right now, got a moment for myself.
> 
> #C: Oh!  
#C: Oh, show me!  
#C: If you want to!  
#C: You don’t have to!  
#C: Oh Hank, I’m excited.

He feels his stomach jump with a warm sense of satisfaction, of Connor so excited that he’s luxuriating… and that he wants to see. It’s plain he’s asking for a bathtub shot, not like the selfie Hank’s sent before. Although he’s sure Connor would be happy with anything, which is nice. There’s a moment of self-consciousness while he opens his camera, trying to angle it tastefully. He wonders if covering himself with his hand would be good, or just showing the torso. In the end he does what he thinks is artfully placing bubbles and taking a picture like Connor’s, light blue milky water and his washcloth floating near the crease of his thigh, hand resting on his belly. He checks it once before he sends it off to Connor, immediately wiggling back down into the tub up to his mouth.

Connor’s response takes a long minute, where Hank waits with excitement in his gut. He hasn’t sent a photo like that in a long time and he has to appreciate the moment because it’s not anxious, it’s exciting. It’s delightful and it feels nice and when Connor’s reply comes, it’s the icing on the cake.

> #C: HANK, I’M  
#C: Hank!!!!
> 
> ! INCOMING CALL  
>> CONNOR

Hank sputters bubbles into the water and sits up enough to answer, phone to his ear. He doesn’t even need to say anything, Connor just speaks because he knows the call is live.

“Hank,” he sounds raspy and deep, “I couldn’t just sit there silently and write back to you. _ God_— You look beautiful. I miss looking at you. I miss your shape. Hank, I want to feel you again.”

“Connor, hell…” Hank drops his head back onto the edge of the tub, blanketed with a hand towel. He remembers to keep his voice down - he knows the house has good walls but he doesn’t want to push his luck.

“I do. I do. You’re so soft, and so strong. Your muscles jump and your skin prickles and I can grab at you— _ And you let me_. You must be soft to touch right now, so flushed and wonderful.” he hears Connor take a steadying breath, “I love feeling you. I can remember it so well and it _ aches_… thinking about it.”

Hank burns with satisfaction and want, of knowing he’s wanted. Hearing Connor is working him up, both with arousal and a sense of giddiness. “Connor, honey… that’s so much at once. But I love it, I really do. Are you thinking about it, right now? Is that, are you… You can relive memories.”

“I can. I am.” Connor tells him, sighing. “But I wish I could have you now.”

He blows out a deep breath, the sentence hitting him heavily. “Oh, god. You’ll have me soon, I swear. I’ll let you, you know that.”

“Tell me again.”

“Connor, honey. I’ll let you have me. I want you to.”

A low moan rumbles through the receiver that sets all of Hank’s nerves tingling, the rush incredibly satisfying. “Hank…”

“You sound so good.” he whispers, wondering for a wild moment if Connor would let him pay for a cab to bring him right here, right now.

"_Hank_," Connor says, flustered. "Whenever you say something like that…"

"I'm amazed by you, Con. It just slips out of me at this point."

"I _ wish…_"

"Me too."

Connor huffs out a deep breath, "I have to go dancing. I have plans…"

"I know, baby." he coos. The pull in Connor's voice that says he wishes he could be with Hank now too makes Hank's fingers ache to touch him. He pictures Connor on his bed, laying dressed for his night out, flustered and torn as they speak. "Go on. Be the most handsome one to walk in there. I'll still be wanting you."

Another moan, more mixed with frustration and for humor now. "Haaaank."

“Go on, handsome.”

Connor sighs, “Promise to moisturize.”

“I promise, I know. Soft hands, soft tits, I swear.” he shakes his head, grinning. He knows the procedure, he thinks sometimes Connor just likes hearing he’s still doing it.

“Oh.” Connor says quietly, a small noise following that sounds suspiciously pleased.

“Let me know when you’re home safe.” he hums, and it makes Connor chuckle.

“Of course, Lieutenant.”

When Hank hangs up, he slides himself under the water and waits until he has to breathe to come back up. Connor always seems to make him a mix of energized and settled, like at any moment he could go for a run or relax into some cushions to slip into sleep. Connor’s enthusiasm is contagious and he makes Hank want. He sits forward in the tub, running his fingers through his hair and grinning to himself.

More and more he finds himself thinking about Connor’s importance, the happiness they give each other and the care he feels. He’s let himself open up to Connor, he’s let himself be vulnerable. It’s been met with such acceptance and understanding. Even celebration, on occasion. That makes him feel damn good. And he likes to think he makes Connor feel good, too. That he makes him happy. All those wonderful smiles and the tone his voice takes with that twinge of softness. The words that just pour from him sometimes and the way his whole face relaxes when Hank accepts something he worries about. Hank wants to soothe so many of Connor’s worries.

And that puts him in a special kind of predicament. That makes him feel like… he could fall for Connor. He’s one of those people that blend so nicely into Hank’s life that being close to him is normal and good. They’ve been dating… but not entirely dating. There have been so few dates; yet Connor’s seen him naked, knows about his everyday life, has kissed him almost like they’re old lovers, knows about some of his long given up vices and has met his son… Connor is in his life now, and has been pretty universally accepted. Hank almost feels as if it should be bigger, as if Connor’s initiation should have been more, but then again… Connor makes him feel energized enough to take a long walk to the dog park with him and Sumo on the last half of his lunch break, and Connor makes him feel like he can simply rest back against his couch cushions and slide their fingers close for a fond idle connection. It’s like there was a place for Connor to settle into before it was even Connor-shaped.

It hits him like a revelation that it’s the same with him. There was space in Connor’s bed for Hank to hold him close, room in his tub for Connor to rest against his body, a place on that damn old couch for Hank to relax into. Places he filled without needing special ways into it. He knows about Connor’s inner thoughts, has learned the ways he’s changed himself, has traced the freckles over his ribcage and met the one person closest to Connor in the whole world.

Maybe he’s settled into Connor’s life as easily as Connor has into his. And that is a thought that makes him pause with a bar of soap half raised to his chest. It doesn’t make him anxious, it doesn’t make his heart race. There’s certainly an uptick, a stutter behind his ribs, but it’s more from the clarifying revelation. He soaps himself up with a deep sense of security, feeling like he has all the time in the world.

Ten minutes later, Cole is pounding on the bathroom door to ask if they can take Sumo for a walk, but he still feels just fine.


	9. Chapter 9

The gentle rap of knuckles on the glass of Fowler's office pulls Hank and Jeff from their conversation. Cherry gives a smile, "Lieutenant? You have a visitor."

They step out of the way, revealing Connor in the bullpen, looking through the stair rail at them. He's wearing a bright grin and a dark button up shirt that resembles a night sky, dotted with little stars. A maroon cardigan sits on top, bunching slightly at the wrists as he holds a bouquet of flowers. He thanks Cherry softly as they pass him, and he goes up the stairs to step inside. Jeffrey stands as Connor comes in, trying to look like he's not excited at another chance to meet Hank's special guy. 

"I hope I'm not interrupting." Connor says, polite as ever.

Hank is a little stunned stupid at how good Connor looks, dressed well and holding flowers and obviously here to pick him up for a date. He reaches up to touch Connor's arm, managing a gentle, "Hey, Con."

"Hello, Hank." He says fondly, plucking a sky blue daisy twisted up in some baby's breath from the bouquet. He hands it to Hank, letting their fingers mingle. Then he steps closer to Jeff's desk and holds the rest of them out in offering, "Hello, Captain. My name is Connor. I’ve heard a lot about you. Hank speaks of you so fondly, and I've been wanting to meet you."

“I’ve heard a lot about you, too." Jeff looks flabbergasted as he takes the flowers, a mix of surprise and pure delight on his face. He chuckles, "You sure it's all fond stuff he spills?"

"Oh, all of it." Connor promises excitedly, "He told me about your friendship, some stories from your academy days. He told me about your juggling routine at barbecues, and since then I've been wishing to see it… and to know what barbecue tastes like."

Jeff looks at Hank and sputters, "You tell him about our beat cop days too?"

Connor gasps and nods, "When he got stabbed! Yes, incredible. You know, I was made for police investigation."

"You don't say?" Jeff's attention is back on Connor in an instant.

"Yes. And I thought your execution of disarming the assailant was incredibly fascinating."

"Oh! Well…" Jeff goes a little bashful, grinning, "It was just acting in the moment, protecting Hank."

Hank watches the two of them dip fully into enthusiastic conversation. Jeff sits back down and cradles his flowers, Connor leans on the side of Jeff's desk while they speak. They've seemingly forgotten Hank is there at all, even if they're talking about him. He sits there with a bemused smile, watching their gesturing hands and bright eyes. He twirls the flower in his hand and feels his heart flutter.

He gives a few rebuttals when they say something embarrassing about him, about his reactions or habits or how a story really went down. At one point, they shush him and Connor carries on about how they met. Jeff is absolutely enthralled. Hank snorts to himself and gets up, coaxing Connor into taking his chair before leaving to grab a change of shirt and his sweater. He's been meaning to change it since he spilled coffee on himself an hour ago - wishes it happened before his lunch break when we went home for a shower - but Jeff needed to get his opinions on a case and got him talking before he could.

He changes in the bathroom and stuffs his old shirt into a drawer in his desk. As he shrugs into his sweater and walks back up to Jeff's office, the two of them are still going. But he sees Connor's LED notch with a little yellow, knowing he's there.

"It's remarkable, Captain. You'll have to tell me more, maybe, at another time?" Connor asks, sounding genuinely hopeful for a story Hank's missed but probably lived through.

"You're invited to the damn barbecue, Connor. You drink stuff, right? I'll tell you over a beer." Jeffrey promises, looking over to Hank. "This one's a keeper, Hank."

"Don't I know it." Hank grins, resting back against the door frame.

Connor smiles, dipping his head as his fingers stim, tapping against his thigh. "Thank you. Captain, I really wish I had more time. I'm so glad I got to meet Hank's best friend. There's nothing like that kind of connection."

"Ah, you're leaving?" Jeff sits up slightly, he does look actually let down by it.

"I have a reserved seat at the planetarium tonight. I've never been, but I enjoy space. I invited Hank to go, but we didn't settle on a time, so I thought I'd come to meet you while I was free." Connor explains.

"Wh…" Jeff looks at Hank with something almost offended, "He asked you out and you didn't make time?"

"I had work tonight!" Hank defends, spreading his hands to the room around them.

"Well, you could have told me." He huffs, shaking his head, "Connor, you gotta learn this about Hank. He'll let his nerves build up and go back and forth on little shit. I've sat with him at the store while he looked at two boxes of cereal for ten minutes."

"Hey!" Hank grouches.

"I understand, Captain." Connor smirks, enjoying himself. Then he softens, and gives a hopeful half smile, "Perhaps he could join me now? If he doesn't have any pressing assignments, of course. I wouldn't want to take him away from anything important."

Jeff starts nodding even before he checks over his notes. He shoos at Hank, "Yeah, of course. He can go early tonight, he's been pulling long hours anyway."

"Really?" Hank straightens up, brows rising. He doesn't have any pressing cases, he's actually waiting on some evidence for the time being, which is why he was free to sit with Jeff in the first place. But there are a few hours left on his shift and he's surprised.

"Yes." Jeff points at him, "Go with him, he invited you. I don't want to see you in the next five minutes. He came all this way, now go."

"Thank you, Captain." Connor places a leading hand on Hank's arm, coaxing him along. “It means a lot."

"You don't worry about it." Jeff tells him, waving him off. "You have a nice night, Connor."

"It was wonderful meeting you, thank you." Connor smiles, and gently shuts the door after them. He leads Hank back to his own desk and waits as Hank collects his things.

"How the fuck did you do that?" He asks as he finds his keys and shuts down his terminal. He gently gathers up the flower again in his hand.

Connor suppresses a bigger smile, hands loosely at his back. "I'm a specialized prototype."

"Yeah, you are. So damn efficient." He says, just to see Connor flush.

"I just mean, I know people." Connor shrugs to hide that he's flustered. "He loves you a lot, Hank."

"Oh, I know. He's a big old sap." He leads Connor towards the exit. "You brought him flowers."

"You suggested I do." Connor reminds, glancing back to see Jeff has set them gently on top of his completed paperwork so they're not crumpled.

"I did tell you that, didn't I?"

"They worked well. They made him happy."

"Yeah." Hank smiles, and twirls the one in his hand.

Connor returns his visitor pass and nods goodnight to Cherry, then takes Hank's hand the moment they're outside. He bumps Hank's arm with his own, "I picked that one out especially for you."

It was the only one of its color in the whole arrangement. "You did?"

"They let me go behind the display to get it." Connor tells him, leading him to his and 900's car, keys already in his hand. "It reminded me of your eyes."

"Oh, Connor." He tucks his head towards his chest and squeezes his hand, a smitten grin pulling at his mouth. "Thank you."

"I'll get you more another time. A big bunch." Connor promises, stopping at the passenger side to give Hank's cheek a gentle kiss.

"You don't have to do that." He protests bashfully, but a soft part of him shakes at the idea. He's sure Connor can read that in his blood pressure or something.

"I want to." Connor opens the door and gestures for Hank to climb in. Hank doesn’t have too much experience with the newer cars, so he ducks his head and gives it a long look first before he settles into the backwards seat. Connor slides in after him and the seats spin around to face the windshield while the doors close. Hank startles at the movement, lifting his feet up. “It’s alright, Hank. Just stay relaxed.”

“Yeah. Sorry.” he shakes his head, his stomach fluttering with a bit of embarrassment.

Connor doesn’t look at him with any judgement. “Have you ever been in a self-driving vehicle?”

“A cab, once or twice, when I really had to.” he shrugs, watching Connor insert the key and press the ignition. The car is so quiet when it turns on, Hank wouldn’t know if it weren’t for the displays lighting up.

“It makes you nervous, I can tell.” Connor says. His hand reaches over to touch Hank’s, giving a little squeeze that he returns. Then Connor taps the display and it shifts up, making room for a steering wheel to fold out from a panel. “I’ll use the manual option. I know it may not make much difference, trading one machine for another to drive, but I am a good driver.”

“It’s different when it’s you, Connor.” he explains, relief flooding him seeing Connor’s hands on the wheel. “I know I haven’t really said why I don’t like self driving cars…”

“And you don’t have to, if that’s not something you want to share.” Connor assures him, backing them smoothly out of the parking space. “You also know I’ll listen, if you want to. I can guess with a good amount of accuracy, but my only concern is that you feel safe with me.”

“I feel so safe with you, Con.” It comes out of his mouth first, unbidden. Because he does. And the way Connor tries to accommodate him by taking the wheel to soothe his fears is more than he could ask for. Connor didn’t try to tell him it would be fine, that it’s safe, that he’s overreacting - he’s been told all that before. Connor just shifted to make him more comfortable, and wished he could do more.

He doesn’t take his eyes off the road, probably for Hank’s benefit. “I’m happy to know that, Hank.”

There’s a small lapse in conversation while they get onto the main road. Connor reaches over and interfaces with the GPS, and it sets them on route to the planetarium. Hank tries a bit anxiously for a minute to move as little as possible, but the car runs so smoothly and Connor is so careful that they don’t jostle at all. He relaxes a bit, knowing that.

“Connor?” he asks, when they pause at a red light. The look given to him is curious and soft. He reaches over to squeeze Connor’s knee, “Thank you, for taking care of me.”

“I promised I would.” Connor replies, taking his hand to bring it up for a kiss. He simply gives one of those lopsided smiles and lets Hank’s hand rest on his knee again when the light turns green.

When they arrive, Connor parks them flawlessly and then turns to look at him. As soon as he breathes in to ask what’s going on, Connor crosses the distance and kisses him. It’s a surprise but a nice one all the same, and it takes Hank less than a moment to melt into it. Connor’s hand balances on his good knee and cups his cheek, his mouth soft and points of contact warm. He gives a pleased hum while his lips close around Connor’s lower one and sucks, and it only slips away when Connor smiles too big.

“What was that for?” he whispers, feeling their breaths mingle.

“Because I wanted to.” Connor whispers back, tucking some hair behind Hank’s ear. “And I like your sweater, you look so nice.”

“You look—” he grunts quietly, Connor’s lips smothering the rest of the sentence. He cups both of Connor’s cheeks and drags his fingers back through his hair.

“I know I do, thank you.” Connor says as he preens in Hank’s hands. He makes to pull away but those hands stop him, their noses brush.

“You look so pretty.” Hank makes sure to tell him, to let him hear it. He smooths the collar of Connor’s shirt and gently trails the backs of his fingers up Connor’s neck and up under his chin. He looks over the flush that’s settling high on those perfect cheekbones and touches the dip of his chin, before finally pulling back.

“Oh.” Connor whispers, a shiver working up his back and his face slack with a little bit of wonder. “_Hank… _”

Hank sneaks a kiss to his nose and smiles, then glances down, “How do I move this damn seat?”

Connor laughs, a little breathless still, and turns off the car. Their seats slowly turn and the doors slide open. Connor steps out first and offers his hand, which Hank takes with a bashful grin. He stretches his back and Connor’s hands flutter over his chest while his arms are up.

“Missing my shape again?” he asks quietly, taking Connor’s hand as they start to walk through the parking lot. Connor makes a noise and there’s a little bounce in his step as they carry on.

Connor holds the door open for Hank and a few others that are leaving from the last show, then finds Hank’s hand again. He scans their tickets via his palm interface and they pass through the holographic line. Hank reaches over to touch his hand, squinting at the tickets. “Party of RK800.”

“I don’t have a last name.” Connor explains with an unworried shrug. He likes the way Hank’s fingers linger on his, and dip to see if his touch disrupts the hologram.

“Ah.” Hank nods, moving a bit to the side as people pass. “Have you ever thought about getting one?”

“What, like I go to the store and get one?” he grins, setting a gentle hand on Hank’s side to lead him to the double doors. “Or is that an offer to share, Mr. Anderson?”

Bashful sputtering overtakes Hank as they walk into the theater, flush burning across his cheeks and down under the collar of his sweater. They find their reserved seats, easy with the little placards on top. They take them before sitting down. The room is a big sphere, a high ceiling and rows of theater seats. A control area sits at the low center of the room, unmanned for now.

Hank puts his reservation slip into his pocket and Connor admires his own for a moment. “Actually, I… I thought about getting a last name. Some of those around me picked, and I debated a few for a while. I even got one offered to me.”

“You did?” Hank shrugs out of his coat and settles comfortably further down into his seat. The light backwards incline of it makes it easier to do, and he watches Connor tuck the reservation away before he fiddles with it too much. He offers his hand as a replacement.

Connor smiles at him and feels over his fingers, toys with the ring on his middle finger. “Markus offered, which was really kind. But it didn’t feel like the one for me. So, I just kept my designation. It’s rare, and easily identifiable with 900’s.”

Hank nods, he guesses he understands that. “Would 900 take the same one, if you ever got one?”

“I would like him to, but I’ve never asked him.” He tilts his head curiously at the idea.

“My ex-wife kept Anderson after the divorce. She liked it, and didn’t like her family name.” Hank shrugs, watching their hands fondly, “That’s why I ask.”

“Interesting. I like that concept.” he smiles, “Like she’s still your family.”

“Yeah, she still is.” Hank agrees, turning his hand over when Connor wants to touch his palm. They sit happily for another few minutes until the doors shut and the lights start to dim. The instructor for the night comes out, their attire scattered with their love for space. Connor and Hank get a kick out of it for different reasons. A shawl dotted with stars and constellations, necklaces and earrings dangling with metal planets, pants vertically striped with painted planets. They bow, then take their seat in the base of the room.

“Welcome to Detroit Discovery, home to Detroit’s planetaria experience and Astronomy Center. My name is Molly, and I’ll be your educational companion for the evening.” they begin in a soothing voice, starting up a sequence on their panels. “There are two exits, marked here and here. Please don’t take any phone calls and keep any light to a minimum here as the theatre lights go down, it interferes with my equipment. Questions are allowed, this can be an interactive experience, or just relax and enjoy the show.”

There’s a small murmur at the information given, and Hank leans over to whisper. “Ah, they remind me of Ms. Frizzle. This was a great idea, Con.”

Connor’s LED blinks as he looks up the name, and his eyes go bright with wonder. He squeezes Hank’s hand. Molly carries on as the noise quiets, “Any androids that have purchased the advanced experience tool for tonight, you have access to it now. Without further ado, welcome to Detroit Discovery.”

The lights dim until the room is filled with darkness, the only glows come from the exits and strips of light to them along the floor. Connor’s LED whirls lazily in Hank’s line of sight, a happy thing, and blinks excitedly when the projection starts— the night sky and all its stars floating above and around them. Hank leans over to whisper again, “Did you get that advanced thing, Con?”

“No,” Connor whispers back, settling closer to the sound of his voice.

“Why not?”

“I want to have this experience with you.” He looks over at Hank and gives an almost shy smile. Hank envelopes Connor’s hand with both of his own and leans closer too, before they both shuffle down in their seats to look upwards as Molly starts their introduction to the universe.

It’s beautiful. Hank hasn’t had an experience like this since he was a kid in school, and the wild shift in technology in his lifetime means it’s just as, if not more, fantastical than his nostalgia-infused memories. The stars glitter and the planets are so detailed when brought in close, thanks to explorations in space over the years. Hank thinks it’s fascinating on an entertaining level, but when he looks over to Connor, he sees his eyes wide in absolute awe. His pupils are huge, and his eyes are darting around more quickly than Hank’s ever could. Lips slightly parted, LED spinning and whirling— he looks incredibly taken by the show. Hank is sure he’s sopping up every bit of information like a sponge and Hank decides all at once that he’d rather watch Connor for the rest of the night.

Connor squeezes Hank’s hand, his LED blinks with excitement as they talk about far away IO, but he tears his eyes away to look across Hank’s face. Hank is in the glow of spinning blue, and then it trips into yellow. “Oh,” Connor says, quietly, and reaches up to cover his LED. “I’m so sorry, it’s been in your face this entire time. It’s been blinding you, Hank.”

Hank shakes his head, watching Connor duck down a bit and take a moment. The glow between Connor’s fingers dims significantly. It’s still there, but definitely harder to see. He takes Connor gently by the wrist and pulls his hand away, leaning to press a kiss over the LED. “No, I’ve been just fine.”

Connor looks at him a bit warily, heavy with guilt, like he can’t fully believe that. Hank reaches between them, shifts the arm of the chair up and away so he can wrap his arm around Connor. Pulls him right up against his side and presses another kiss to his skin, “Promise. It didn’t bother me. Seeing you is the best part, Connor.”

“But didn’t you see Saturn?” Connor points out to where the projected planet is spinning slowly above their heads. He settles against Hank like muscle memory, a familiar warm weight that makes Hank’s head buzz peacefully.

“I did, but your ring’s interesting too.” He rests his head on Connor’s, rubbing his shoulder soothingly. He can’t help dropping random kisses to Connor’s hair and brow, loving every time he lifts his hand like he wants to point and gets excited seeing something new. He tips his head to whisper in question about a few things, and Connor gains the confidence to point and tell Hank about what’s interesting him so intensely. He listens to that gentle rasp in his ear and doesn’t mind when Connor talks a little too fast.

It’s easier for Connor to share after that. He says whatever’s on his mind and gives Hank additional facts as he does. Hank drops a kiss to his left brow and smiles, nodding along. Connor tips towards him some more, “—And the likeness to Earth, it’s… fascinating…” his voice trails off as he meets Hank’s eyes, seeing the stars reflected in them. Hank’s gaze is so soft, waiting on his next word, enjoying their time together. He feels his chassis heat and his skin prickle with static, and he leans up to easily capture Hank’s mouth.

They hang suspended there for a moment before he opens his mouth under Hank’s, and the kiss is almost careful, silent and wanting in the dark. Hank’s grip on his shoulder tightens, draws him closer, and he curls his fingers at Hank’s thigh near their joined hands. When they pull back, a slow burn of light shimmers above them as they listen to the properties of the burning heart of a star, and Connor’s eyes are molten and dark. He’s seen want from Connor before, but not building like this. Hank feels the delightful curl in the pit of his stomach, then it’s him that leans back in for another kiss when the room shrouds into inky darkness. This time he slides his hand around the back of Connor’s neck, fingers dragging through the short prickling hairs at his nape.

Connor starts to make a noise and then goes completely silent, dragging their joined hands towards his body. He tries to move into Hank’s touch and gently knocks their knees, making Hank smile. Connor breathes hot against his lips and then tries to lick into his mouth. It has a shiver crackling down his spine like lightning, but he pulls away with an almost giddy chuckle, “Con…”

He doesn’t say anything, but his brows raise and his eyes are lidded, mouth shiny wet and still wanting. Hank takes in a deep breath and presses their foreheads together, a wide grin forming. “You’re something else. God, you make me feel…”

Those doe eyes dart around with a moment of alertness, a smile tugging at his lips and scrunching up his eyes. When he laughs it’s completely silent but Hank feels him shake. Hank slides his hand over Connor’s thigh, feeling that dense cording of synthetic muscle and Connor’s eyes flutter closed for a few long seconds. He feels the exciting tingle at the back of his neck that he probably shouldn’t act on the thought popping into his head, but it’s been a while since he felt so young and he _ wants_. So he slides his hand around Connor’s inner thigh, thumb close to the zipper on his jeans and feels the catch of breath in Connor’s body instead of hearing it.

“Connor,” he whispers, breathing out a laugh as kisses are pressed into his beard, “Ah— I haven’t asked anyone this in a long time…”

A small blip of static comes from Connor’s throat and then he hums, “Hank, do you want to go? I know we’re having fun, but.”

“There’s always gonna be another show. I’m having fun with you, honey.” he promises, knowing his face is red and his voice is caught with excitement. “Leave with me.”

Connor lays his hand over Hank’s for a moment just to feel the weight, and then nods eagerly. They both try to quietly get up from their seats and shuffle out, Hank almost forgetting his coat. They’ve been here long enough where there’s maybe five minutes left in the show anyway, and Connor fidgets wildly with his keys as they weave through the parking lot. Hank grins at the tick and brings their joined hands up to kiss Connor’s knuckles. Then the back of his hand, the side of his palm. Connor looks back at him with a bright smile.

“Sorry, I always get so…” he gestures to himself bashfully, his obvious whole body excitement in jitters and subtle movement. He opens the car doors and beckons Hank in.

Hank does as he’s told, rubbing his sweaty palms on his thighs. He watches Connor follow, watches him start the car and turn up the heat. He slides his big hand over Connor’s and leans to kiss the heel of his hand, “I like you like this.”

Connor’s eyes soften and so does his smile, his fingers tangling into Hank’s beard. He leads Hank in for a short kiss, “I like you, too.”

When Connor lets him go, he rests back against the seat and adjusts himself in his pants. He tries for subtlety, but looking back over at Connor - seeing a smug smile and averting eyes, well. It only makes him flush hotter.

The drive back is easy, there’s less cars on the road at this time of night and Connor still takes as much care as before. He hasn’t stopped smiling. Hank leans his head back and watches Connor fondly in the flash of passing streetlights, “You look so handsome.”

“Thank you.” he rolls his shoulders and relaxes a bit, “You know you are, too.”

“Yeah, but I’m lookin’ at you.” Hank hums, the heat from the vents lulling any errant curls of worry. “Will you turn your LED back up?”

“You’d like that?” he spares a glance over as he’s waiting to turn. Hank looks almost cozy, comfortable and wanting and staring lovingly at him. It makes him shiver with excitement.

“I like seeing it blink when you’re into something.” Hank tells him, running his fingers through his hair. “I like seeing you.”

Connor takes a deep breath and grins, shaking his head softly. “Hank… You’re so provocative.”

“That good, baby?” Hank grins, shifting lightly in his seat. “You know I can’t wait to see you.”

“Hank…”

“There’s a little cluster of freckles I’ve been wanting to get my mouth on.”

He grips the steering wheel harder and runs one hand down his chest, breathing a heavy sigh. “Ah. Where?”

“That sweet, soft lower belly.”

Connor drags his hand down to where he knows they are, tucking his fingers lightly into his belt to touch them through his clothes. “Shit.”

Hank grins and rubs his hands over his thighs, wishing he could touch Connor already. His hands ache for it, he wants to feel Connor’s skin again. He manages to chuckle at himself, yearning like he is when Connor’s a foot away and wanting him to touch, too. When they pull into the designated spot in front of Connor and 900’s apartment complex, Hank moves as soon as he sees the car get shifted into park. He leans over and cups Connor’s cheek, tugging him into a heated kiss. Connor moans against his lips and grabs for his arms, pressing up into him with hunger. Hank kisses him like he wants to give the most, dipping his tongue into Connor’s mouth to drag against his teeth and tongue, remembering all those important sensors.

“Hank.” Connor’s thrumming beneath his skin as Hank pulls away, taking in and sorting the information Hank gives away. Hank’s beard scrapes against his jaw and his lips drag wet over his skin. Connor’s skin is incredibly soft and everything under it inhumanly dense, but Hank hums while he tries to suck a mark just below the curve of his jaw. Connor’s breath hitches and he stumbles up to push Hank back against the seat, putting himself into his lap.

“God.” Hank says shakily, taking hold of Connor’s hips to keep him steady. He lays kisses along Connor’s neck, catching any freckles to give them attention. He knows Connor knows they’re there, he wants to show he actually does look at him in the way desired. Connor shudders against him, whining quietly and trying to wrap around him. “Oh, baby…”

“Come upstairs with me.” Connor breathes.

The movement from car to elevator is a blur, where Connor pins him to the wall and licks into his mouth. The elevator stops at their floor with Hank grinding against Connor’s thigh and muffling a loud moan into Connor’s mouth. He happily lets himself be dragged from the elevator, a real sense of strength there that Hank hasn’t encountered before. It runs a hot shiver through him and puts an urgency into his step. They kiss again outside the door while Connor’s getting it open, his arm held tight around Hank’s shoulders so he can’t get away. When he puts his hand against Connor’s chest, he can feel the high hum of Connor’s pump regulator against his palm. He tries to fit his fingers through the buttons to touch the skin.

Connor hums in satisfaction when they stumble through the door and draws his hand up to pull at a few buttons to help Hank along. He captures Hank’s mouth and leads them back through the dark apartment, knowing the floorplan without needing to look. He’s confident and lets Hank take up a good amount of his attention, it’s especially easy when Hank whimpers softly and cradles him in his arms, kissing him like he’s everything and more

He settles Hank against the wall on the inside of his bedroom to close the door, prying the coat off of his human. Hank suckles on his upper lip before pulling away, panting soft air between them, “Let me get your clothes off. Let me see you.”

The moment Connor unpins him with a small step back, he’s got his hands on Connor’s chest. He’s trying to regulate his breathing but he’s so pitched with excitement as he traces the line of skin showing from Connor’s open buttons. He cups his cheek while he undoes the rest, lips brushing Connor’s cheek, his brow, his LED. He follows a sporadic line down his neck, along his freckled shoulder while the fabrics fall away. He makes sure they don’t fall to the floor, sweeping them up to gently toss them on the nearby bench.

“Thank you.” Connor whispers appreciatively, hands finding Hank’s hips.

“Anything for you, honeybee.” he leans to kiss Connor’s chest, eyes flicking up before he lowers himself to his knees.

Connor gasps and grabs for his shoulder. “Hank, your knees.”

“I’m okay.” he whispers, mouthing over where Connor’s bellybutton would be. He feels Connor twitch above him while he brings his hands up to his belt, “Let me?”

“_Oh_. God, yes. Yes! I’d…” his hands skitter over Hank’s, trying to help him get it open. Hank kisses his hands and laughs softly, gently shooing him while he works on the buckle.

“Enthusiasm is always appreciated.” Hank coos, nosing against his skin. He opens Connor’s jeans too and kisses above the waistband of his brightly patterned boxer briefs, thumb drawing along the hardness straining the fabric. Connor’s hand settles heavy on his shoulder, a shudder working through his body.

“It’s more than enthusiasm.” Connor whispers, looking down at the vision Hank makes in the low light of his bedroom, cheeks red and lips softened by numerous kisses. His hands big and drawing his underwear down to kiss the base of his cock. “_Oh._”

“Yeah?” Hank whispers, more to voice pleasure than anything else. Their hands nudge down Connor’s clothes until he’s just free enough, and Hank leaves sloppy kisses along the shaft. It’s such a sweet little thing, he thinks to himself, skin soft and flushed. There’s a little freckle near the tip that he gently tongues and sucks on.

And Connor gasps raggedly, leaning heavier on him. “Hank, that feels good. I’ve… I’ve never had anyone offer before.”

Hank looks up at him, mouth going a little slack. “No one’s ever gotten you in their mouth before?”

Connor shakes his head, breathes purposefully deep. He reaches down to hold himself at the base, like he’s steadying himself, watching the way Hank follows with his mouth. “It never came up. They always wanted different things.”

“Fuck, Connor.” he wraps his fingers around Connor’s wrist and takes hold of his hip. “I want to. This is the only thing I want right now. And I’ll happily have the honor if you’ll let me.”

Connor’s hips twitch towards his face, looking struck with a swell of disbelief and affection. “I want you to, so badly.”

Hank huffs and maneuvers Connor back the few feet to his bed, encouraging him to sit with excitement buzzing heavy under his skin. When he leans up to kiss the circle of Connor’s regulator, he whispers against the light of it. “You can guide me if one thing feels better than another, okay? And you’ll let me hear you, yeah? I want to hear you. God… I want you.” He rubs at Connor’s thighs when he dips down and takes him into his mouth.

The grip on his shoulder tightens as Connor drags in a ragged breath. His skin flickers with what Hank assumes is a case of goosebumps. For just a second he feels sleek, bare chassis under his tongue and hums in surprise, looking up to see Connor with his eyes shut tight and hand clasped over his mouth. He’s flushed pink over his cheeks and his chest is stuttering trying not to breathe too roughly. He looks caught in pleasure to the point of being stock still. Hank drags his hands over Connor’s thighs, pulling back just enough to speak, “Connor…”

Connor moans brokenly just hearing his name, curling in even more. He squeezes Hank’s shoulder and looks down at him, in time to see Hank’s reddened lips press a wet kiss to the tip of his cock. His fingers slide over to Hank’s neck, rubbing just under his jaw where his beard is trimmed. Hank’s eyes meet his with nothing but adoration and a staggering level of want, Hank’s hand gently steadying him so he can tongue just below the tip. “Relax. Anything you do is perfect.”

His hips arch up and Hank makes an encouraging noise for him. Hank wants to encourage him on anything that feels good. He reaches down to cup Hank’s cheek with his other hand, hesitantly guiding him for more. The feel of his saliva and brush of his breath is almost overwhelming, and the fact that Hank looks incredibly turned on doing this for him makes his own arousal twist up tighter. Hank gives a pleased huff, like satisfaction, and slides Connor’s dick back into his mouth. He eagerly follows Connor’s lead, those fidgeting fingers on either side of his head, leading him maybe halfway down his cock before letting up. He lets out a quiet moan and makes himself relax, the tensing in his thighs softening.

Hank gives back a soft grunt and shifts, taking Connor in the rest of the way, nose pressing up against his skin. A groan punches from Connor’s chest and Hank wraps his arms around him, humming while he swipes his tongue against him and keeps himself firmly where he is. Like he really wants to give and he’s enjoying himself just as much. Connor slips back onto the bed and arches against his mattress, feeling Hank’s hands only drag him in closer. Hank bobs his head and works with the noises that are delightfully rising in volume, the squirming and grabbing at his biceps. It’s easy to suck Connor down, he fits so comfortably into Hank’s mouth and when his hips begin to flex up, Hank groans in bliss. He hasn’t done this in so long and forgot how much he loved it.

"Hank…" Connor moans, his head thrown back. He’s self conscious about all his twitching, his legs nudging Hank in the ribs, his hands trying to find purchase. But Hank only hums and reaches up to take his hand, their fingers slotting together. Hank’s mouth is a vice, drawing the pleasure from him in waves, more and more intense with each motion. He feels Hank’s strong tongue twist over the tip of his cock and then sheath him back in full again, Hank’s heavy breaths tingling against his skin where his nose is pressed against him. He feels the heat spreading from their point of contact, racing up his stomach and down through his legs, the suction dizzying.

Hank’s hand splayed lovingly over his lower back encourages the motion of his hips, and he flushes deep red when he finds himself gently fucking Hank’s mouth in the little room he has. Hank groans, deep and muffled, feeling his whole body throb with need. Each of Connor’s sounds reaching his ears as he puts effort into taking pleasure, the intoxicating repetition of Connor’s hips meeting his face, and Connor’s hand as it comes to cup the side of his face. He hasn’t felt so worked up in a long time, that heavy pulsing heat and buzz in the back of his head, softening his vision around the edges. He feels so good and he’s barely been touched.

With a broken groan, Connor’s fingers curl in the hair tucked behind his ear. “Hank, please… You feel so good, and I-I’m close, and you can…”

Connor guides him off, but Hank just drags in a ragged breath and slides his hand up Connor’s stomach. “Fuck.” He leans in to smudge a sloppy kiss into the crease of Connor’s thigh, hips rocking against nothing, “Let me.”

“Hank.” Connor is looking down at him, his thighs and stomach trembling. His LED is blinking so fast, chest heaving. Hank meets his eyes and then pushes forward again, swallowing him back down with a groan. It puts him flat on his back again, hand grabbing for Hank’s on his chest to hold on for the ride.

Hank feels the squirming turn to desperate tensing, shaking as it all boils over for Connor less than thirty seconds later. Connor stiffens up for that one cresting second, his moan is raspy and loud, then his hips are rolling up uncontrolled into Hank’s mouth. He didn’t know if there would be anything when Connor came, but it punches another groan out of him when Connor’s cock twitches on his tongue and come fills his mouth. It doesn’t taste anything like he thought, it’s just mineral-like and clean, vaguely sweet in a sterile way. He holds him close and swallows, feeling the rumbling in Connor’s chest under the palm of his hand.

Connor draws in trembling breaths as it washes over him and slowly ebbs into a pleasant throbbing. The skin on his hands has melted back, both of them holding Hank’s tenderly, and a low whine pulls from his throat when Hank slides his mouth off him. He squeezes Connor’s hands and drags the flat of his tongue along Connor’s whole component, from sac to tip where it lays on his belly. Connor gives a sensitive twitch, and Hank presses a kiss to those freckles low on his belly that he's been coveting for so long.

“Honey.” he sighs, bringing their hands up to kiss Connor’s knuckles too. Connor hums and gazes down at him with dazed, adoring eyes, cheek pressed against his shoulder. He’s given a slow smile and it makes a warm shiver burst over his skin. “Was that good for you, too?”

“God.” Connor gets caught between another moan and a laugh, pulling himself up from the sheets. He blinks wildly for a moment, like he’s trying to get his bearings again, before taking Hank’s face between his hands and kissing him. It’s sloppy and devouring and passionate, and Hank bends to it with a shudder. Connor's tongue maps the inside of Hank’s mouth as if he didn’t know it completely by now, analyzing himself lingering on Hank’s taste buds with a soft grunt of pleasure. When he pulls back, Hank hums like he doesn’t want him to go. “You made me feel so good. Come here, Hank. Let’s get you off your knees, let me see _ you_.”

Hank lets Connor help him up onto the bed, arms strong and sturdy again as if he hadn’t just been shaking like a tree. He shimmies out of the rest of his clothes and twists to touch Hank, laughing softly as he moves. Hank takes him by the hip, smiling up at him while hands paw at his sweater, “What’s got you giggling like that?”

“My stomach is swooping all around after that.” he answers with a lopsided grin, maneuvering Hank out of the sweater. He lays it at the end of the bed and excitedly starts working on the buttons of Hank’s shirt, touching each bit of skin exposed. “Like butterflies.”

“Oh, honey.” Hank pulls him closer, guiding him to straddle one of his thighs, letting his hand rub against Connor’s sensitive stomach. “Is that a component thing?”

Hank’s hand slides down to brush his soft cock, like he’s trying to soothe him and excite him all at once. He hums, pressing a kiss to Hank’s temple, “Mm, maybe. Any of my non-issued components make the rush more intense in a physical way… Did you look up compatibility?”

“A little bit while lookin’ over your very impressive specs. Just to know.” Hank doesn’t say that he also watched a video or two on how to play with an android’s wires for pleasure, just in case Connor asked. Connor pushes the shirt off his shoulders, long fingers drawing over his chest. His face turns a little more soft, and he leans up for a kiss. “So efficient, you know.”

Connor gasps softly, pulling back just enough so he misses the kiss but can look over Hank’s face. Connor looks so caught in surprise, a flush bloomed over his skin. Something passes through his eyes, something soft, something heated. Then he ducks his head, hand sliding down Hank’s body to cup him through his jeans. Hank groans and Connor presses into his space, dragging his lips over Hank’s cheekbone, “Shit… say it again, Hank.”

A hot flush sings over Hank’s skin, hips jerking into the warmth of Connor’s hand. He’s just stumbled into something without meaning to, but all at once he remembers their conversation about Connor vividly imagining touching his body, and listening to his voice. He gave Connor permission to put his voice to words for his personal enjoyment. “That you’re so efficient, baby?”

“Mhmm.” Connor sighs, raking his fingers down Hank’s back. He’s kissing Hank’s face, the corner of his mouth, a new kind of feverish energy bleeding into him. He tongues his way into Hank’s mouth, guiding him down against the sheets. Hank goes happily, body tingling with unbridled excitement as he draws his hands up Connor’s sides. Connor whispers against his lips, “I thought about you. I thought about you saying that to me, telling me how efficient and good I am.”

“You are good, Connor.” he replies, soft when he presses a kiss to Connor’s chin. He watches Connor’s eyes flutter. “What else?”

“You’ve called me pretty twice in memory.” Connor whispers, almost like he’s too giddy to say it. “I played it again and again. Handsome, sweet, good, _ so pretty_.”

“That’s because you’re so pretty, Connor.” he murmurs at the corner of Connor’s mouth, fingers trailing up his chest. “So goddamn handsome and good you make me dizzy.” Connor lets out a breathless laugh, the end of it tapering almost into a growl that shakes Hank in his damn core. He shifts his hips and his cock brushes Hank’s belly, hardening up again. Hank reaches down to wrap his hand around it, thumb rubbing slowly across the tip, “And you look so beautiful when you’re excited. It makes you excited, huh? Being told you’re so damn sweet.”

“It does.” He admits in a whisper, eyes slipping closed as he nudges into the pleasure. "Every time, it just hits me when you say it."

"You make me want to say it." he whispers back, lips brushing against his cheek, "You make me want everything."

Connor shudders. His hands move deftly to open Hank's jeans, tipping his head to catch his mouth, "Then let me want with you."

Hank can feel the almost overwhelming wave of anticipation that tingles low in his gut as they get his pants off. Connor doesn’t waste any more time and pulls his boxers right with it, looking up at Hank as he kneels on the floor, untangling the fabric from his feet. He squeezes Hank’s left ankle with a smile, “Do the socks stay on?”

“If you don’t mind it.” Hank answers bashfully. He doesn’t think he’s ever been asked that, it’s silly but he likes how much Connor values his comfort.

“I think your ‘happy camper’ socks are very cute, Hank.” He climbs back up over Hank’s lap, curling his fingers around his cock. He kisses Hank’s soft whine away, giving him a couple of slow strokes, “Do you want to lay down for me?”

Hank nods but doesn’t make any move to change position while he’s being touched. It makes Connor smile and he indulges for a moment just to listen to Hank’s breath hitch. But then he maneuvers Hank where he wants him against the mattress, with a lightly firm tone that earns him a shiver, “Right in the middle, Hank.”

He places Hank perfectly, scooting him by the hips and thighs, touching him all over until he’s just right. It drives Hank crazy, every touch ramps up his excitement. He’s not afraid to say that he’s pretty much squirming under Connor’s hands and every roll of his body by the time Connor reaches into the bedside table for lube. He trails his fingers down Connor’s spine while he gazes up at him, “How do you wanna do this?”

Connor spreads his thighs apart and dips to kiss the scar on his belly. Hank feels his stomach swoop with excitement while Connor palms at his inner thighs, “If I can…”

“Oh god, yeah. Fuck… Absolutely.” Hank breathes, letting his legs fall open as Connor settles between them. Connor chuckles with delight, running his fingertips over Hank’s cock.

“Thank you for your enthusiastic consent, I really like that.” he hums, gathering slick over his fingers and going extra warm before he slides them between Hank's cheeks. The moan he gets just for the sensation flutters in his circuits. Slowly sliding in with his middle finger while he covers Hank’s skin with kisses, he adores Hank's responsiveness and the way his thighs tremble.

"_Ah_, god. Connor…" Hank pulls him closer, where he's got a bit of grip around Connor's left hip.

"I'll be closer, all in good time." He promises, closing his mouth over Hank's nipple. That hand immediately flies to his head, fingers dragging up the back of his neck to curl in his hair.

"You can't just say _ that_." Hank huffs bashfully, feeling those words like fire in his belly. He wants that _ good time _ to be right now. But all he can do is arch up against Connor's mouth and relax around his searching finger in the hopes he can entice Connor for more.

"I just did, Hank." He whispers into the gray curls on Hank's chest, fluttering the tip of his finger over Hank's prostate while he leans up to nuzzle his cheek. "I can barely wait to be inside you."

Hank's stomach swoops with the rush of pleasure. He can't place the last time someone else did this for him, it's been so long. So when he wraps his arm around those strong freckled shoulders and turns his head towards his lover to moan his name, he feels it in his bones. And it seems like Connor does too, because his hips rock against nothing and he starts working Hank in earnest, echoing his pleasure right into his ear.

He eases Hank open and builds him up right to that edge, precome leaking over his own stomach, hushed and broken noises falling from his panting mouth. Listening to the shaking "_Connor, Connor, please Connor_" is a high that sings in his circuits. It works him up as if he's being played with, too. He soothes Hank every time, full of his fingers and still for the moment, spending the time kissing and watching his heart calm back down.

Hank feels the orgasm ebb away again, taking longer and longer each time, and the incredible buzz all throughout his body when the release is held back again. He squeezes Connor's bicep when it tenses to start working him over _ again_, groaning into his mouth as they kiss, "Connor, honey, baby… I'll ask because I know you're happy to drive me absolutely crazy. Please, enough for just me. _ Please_, Connor, could you fuck me with your cock this time?"

Connor pulls back just enough to rest their foreheads together, a breathless huff of laughter brushing Hank's wet lips. "It feels so nice to hear you say that."

"And you know what would feel even better?" Hank whispers, stealing a kiss while Connor adjusts him on the bed exactly how he wants him, because he's definitely moved. He can feel Connor's breath hitch and the slick brush of his knuckles when he takes himself in hand.

Connor's eyes crinkle with a lovestruck smile. He basks in Hank's hands all over him, how he tries to kiss wherever he can reach. How he lets Connor take the lead and it's never been so much fun. When he tilts his hips forward and presses inside, both of their hands are there to guide him, and the ripple of good goosebumps that travel Hank's body are magnificent.

Hank is so beautifully human. He lets Hank pull him in close, hold him in his arms while he murmurs that he just needs a minute, that it’s been so long, that Connor feels _ so good _. Connor’s circuits sing at the reverence in Hank’s voice, the way his hands draw paths along his skin that feel like electricity and comfort at the same time. He's so content to wait if this is what he gets to feel.

“Hank, you’re so human.” He whispers his praise, smoothing Hank’s hair back onto the pillow. When he starts rocking his hips, Hank’s stutter up to meet him.

“Wh… Yeah, baby.” Hank is just trying to keep his cool, his whole stomach feels hot and tight and like he’s gonna come any second.

Connor lays their foreheads together, watching the pleasure flush his lover’s face. “You’re shaking. You’re so warm… holding on so tight.”

“God. Connor…”

“How’s your back? Would you like me to hold you at a better angle?”

Hank feels himself go lightheaded when Connor grinds into him, skirting his prostate and sliding that smooth stomach across his neglected cock. “_Fuck_. How?”

Connor gently pries Hank’s hands off him so he can sit up, not bothering to completely stop moving when Hank’s shaky breaths sound so wonderful. He tucks the backs of Hank’s knees into the crook of his elbows and takes Hank by the forearms. When he gently pulls, it brings the tension off Hank’s lower back and lifts him perfectly for Connor’s cock to nudge all the right spots.

Hank has never felt so exposed in a sex position in his _ life_, and Connor’s iron grip has him so secure. “You’re so fuckin’ strong.”

“You’re so beautiful.” Connor whispers, shuddering and pink all down his chest— and dutifully working his hips.

Hank can't move as much anymore, his bottom half basically in Connor's hands. But he trusts him, and it feels damn good, and every twitch he makes has Connor moaning. He can squeeze his legs a little and rock his hips, and Connor reacts beautifully.

"I'm very sensitive." Connor tells him, breathless.

"Good boy." Hank murmurs, and Connor buckles a little under the praise. His thrusts speed up. "Just how I want you. It's exactly what I need."

He leans more into Hank's body, wanting his closeness, wanting more from such a deep and dedicated voice. It's like Hank knows exactly what he needs, too. He's so embarrassed when his voice box crackles but Hank shivers and bears down hard, stuttering out how much he _ adores _ when he flusters Connor enough to make his voice glitch. An overwhelming feeling skitters up through his nerves. He's processing so much pleasure, reading dozens of columns with thousands of information clusters, and the feeling of security that envelops him with Hank's celebration of his otherness is a beautiful cascade. His adoration for Connor as a whole makes Connor dive in head first, sharing Hank's kisses with abandon and pistoning his hips the way he desperately wants to, and his hands coming away to bare chassis, locked with Hank's.

"Good god, you're amazing. Just like that, just like that…" Hank's murmuring breathlessly in between their sloppy, deep kisses. He's starting to clench and jerk involuntarily, his body thrumming with building urgency. Connor is panting against his jaw and groaning for more of his praise.

"You got me perfect, Con. So efficient—" he's blabbering, voice hitching every time Connor hits just right. That's starting to be every damn time and Hank is starting to come unraveled at the seams. Connor sobs against his skin and bucks into him, his hands squeezing tighter. "So _ efficient_, so _ good _ to me, such a _ sweetheart_— God, Connor, I'm right there, you gotta touch me—"

Hank would have never thought at sixty years old, he'd see one of his legs over someone's shoulder. But Connor shifts him quickly, with care, and when his bare fist wraps around Hank's cock, they both give a ragged gasp. It takes a scant amount of pulls for Hank to seize up with a trembling grunt and then go pliant in Connor's arms as he comes. It takes Connor by such surprise, the wonderful way Hank relaxes while his body twitches and rocks, while the waves roll in. He trusts Connor so much, and it's so clear.

Hank holds him tenderly at the back of the neck and moans for him to keep going, that it feels so good, that he wants Connor to feel good too. He's letting Hank's legs return to his sides as he drops into Hank's embrace, holding him by his soft, soft sides and grinds— processes stuttering and back bowing up as his orgasm sweeps over him. Hank's free hand finds his ass and encourages him to work his hips through it, "I'll take it, you just feel it… beautiful, honey…"

Connor buries his face in Hank's hair, shuddering while Hank's hands guide him along. And as they slow to a stop, their bodies flush, Hank can feel the thrumming of Connor's pump regulator against his chest. It’s honestly a little superheated between them, Hank’s heart trying to calm and Connor’s systems running overtime.

"You're amazing." he whispers in between pants, smoothing his fingers down Connor's back. The skin fizzles softly with his touch, like it can't choose what feels best. He can hear Connor’s fans trying to wick the heat from his body. He hazily remembers the specs manual and gently taps against Connor’s lower back, “Open up, sweetheart. Cool off.”

With a happy sigh, Connor opens a few panels and the little sound buzzes like white noise as their breathing slows. “So good to me.”

“I can absolutely say the same.” he presses a tired kiss to Connor’s hair, playing around the edge of a panel seam with his fingers. Connor snorts quietly against his shoulder, and slowly lifts himself. He strokes Hank from hip to thigh as he moves away, and collapses over his other thigh to lay against the pillows. Hank squeezes one of his bony knees, giving a satisfied hum.

"It doesn't bother you." It's not a question, just an observation as his stomach panel opens instead of his back, and Hank cuddles up close anyway.

“‘Course not… Is ‘efficient’ your turn on word, then?” he asks, leaning up into the fingers stroking through his hair. “I think every time I’ve said it to you, there’s been some kinda reaction.”

“It’s… the short answer— yes.” Connor grins blissfully, splayed out next to him. “It’s a very integral word. What I kept striving for during my testing phases. I’d get called it, and I’d get a… a technological high? The thing that pings in android brains when they’ve completed a task. But being a prototype, it pinged off for me every time because that _ was _ my task. Being deviant and hearing it from you, in that incredible voice… it hits differently.”

“Oh, you sweet talker.” he feels a low wave of satisfaction run over his skin. He just wants to talk Connor through another good time now… Maybe not _ right now_, but it’s a thought. “I’ll remember that.”

“I hope you do.” Connor tells him, and Hank looks over at that beautiful, smug face.

"If not, I'm sure you can remind me." he whispers, pressing a sleepy kiss to that strong jaw.

"Setting a reminder." Connor announces with a grin, and Hank sputters with laughter.


End file.
